Maggie and Dan's
shrimp cocktail Swedish meatballs vodka
games laughter friends
fun never ending
Maggie and Dan's

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Posted by Jillian at 08:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

Ahem...pardon me... could I have your attention for a brief moment? This is just to say, that all we want... is... to GET THE FUCK OUT. Why is this so damn difficult?

Neither of us has grandiose aspirations for weath and power. Maybe I want to write something beautiful or relevant or good; maybe malcolm will teach me the butterfly stroke; perhaps, just perhaps we'll open a little cantina on the beach, where our brown baby runs around and everyone dances and debates and drinks well into the night. I want to move to somewhere not here, someplace always warm and sometimes frightening, always challenging. I want to use my body, which will become lean and strong, and my mind, which will be free and mercurial. I want to know old women from ancient cultures and brazen women from the Baltic sea, who've come to the Carribean to make papier mache masks for dogs to wear in holiday festivals. I want to be barefoot. I want to drop in on a real wave with passion and velocity.

I'm going to try more than I ever have to be of use, to be marketable, to be a help to the cause of us. I hope there is an end in sight, a sense of a tropical sunset beginning.

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Posted by Jillian at 01:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's a rainy Thursday a couple a days post Christmas' frenetic family feast and drink-a-thon, and I, for one, feel like le poo. My pants don't fit; my credit card was declined; I'm looking for a job, again, to no avail, again; and I think Malc is sick. I know that there's a lot worse stuff going on out there in the wretched world... I'm just weighing in with a little bit of holiday ennui from a cozy corner in the Hamden library, typing next to some kid who smells like a fried bologna sandwich. Hope I didn't bum you out. Sincerely Yours, jills

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Posted by Jillian at 12:42 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

With 2005 winding down, it's the right time to announce the "Father of the Year" award for the past year. Check out this Kansas City-area pillar-of-steel, as he hands down the ultimate in trauma to his son on Christmas Day. Turns out the little so-and-so just wouldn't stop acting like a monster, so his dad sold his new XBOX 360 on Craigslist. But, and here's the best part...he KEPT the BOX and FILLED IT WITH COAL before letting his son unwrap it on Christmas Day. Here's the text of the post:

"Selling My Kid's XBox 360--$100

My kid has been an absolute terror for the last month. He has been demanding more and more from my wife while constantly pestering us to give him his X-box 360 early so he can play it. Last night was the last straw when he kicked my $2000 stereo system after I refused to give it to him early.

It is an X-box 360 system. It has the console, harddrive, a couple of cables, and some sort of little headset or something.

So we have decided to get some revenge this Christmas. I will need to keep the box.

To purchase this system, you must be able to pick it up at my house or at work during normal hours. Call in advance so I can get the wife to take the kid out for a drive or distract him downstairs.

I am asking $100 cash. I will also need you to bring a bag of charcoal so I can fill the box up with. Let me stress again that you will get the full contents of the box-the 360, controller, headset, those cords, etc. YOU WILL NOT GET THE BOX, as we will need it along with the charcoal for a little x-mas surprise.

I would prefer that this goes to a kid who deserves it and treats his mom nice, but I will sell it to anybody just to get rid of it. If nobody buys this by christmas eve, I will just go and toss the contents of the box in a dumpster."

If you happen to live near Kansas City, you might have felt good about that for the first time in your life as you got a brand spanking new XBOX 360 for next to nothing. In addition, for those readers who don't already know, I hate teenagers and support their full degredation and humiliation at all times. This particular punishment borders on "permanently damaging," which I also enjoy, because they are disgusting. Merry Christmas!

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Posted by Malcolm at 04:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

About a year ago, I had a real City of Heroes problem. I would play for five, six hours at a time, running around the streets with my friend Conor who lives in San Francisco, battling evil. I eventually got a little tired of it, as things got a little repetitive. Jillian was happy to have me back. So why, then, did she buy me the sequel, City of Villains, as a Christmas present? I am owned once again.

I only started playing yesterday, so right now my characters are really me trying out the different classes. I thought I would just take a moment to introduce them to you, and make them as big a part of your life as they are, mine. I also wanted to put a face on the reason I am not answering the phone.

		Name: Mrs. Chesterfield Class: Dominator Primary Power: Plant Control Secondary Power: Psionic Assault Current Level: 5 Summary: Mrs. Chesterfield is definitely my primary player right now. She can control all manner of plant life, causing vicious thorny roots to spring forth from the ground and entrap enemies. Once they are immobilized, a quick psionic blast scrambles the enemies' central nervous system, causing great damage.
		Name: Dr. Octagon Class: Mastermind Primary Power: Robotics Secondary Power: Traps Current Level: 1 Summary: Rather than get down and dirty, the Doctor has complete control over an army of robotic minions to do his bidding. He is also a master of traps, throwing avalanches of caltrops at groups of would-be assailants. I like this character a lot, but he is a little tricky to play, so I will probably come back to him later after I've been playing a little longer.
		Name: Rosie Class: Brute Primary Power: Super Strength Secondary Power: Invulnerability Current Level: 1 Summary: This little fella has no superpowers whatsoever, and his strength and invulnerability are the result of nature. Though disfigured in a horrific baking accident, he is proving to be a capable and strong character to play. I just tend to not have as much fun with straight brawler-types, so he probably won't get used much for now.

And that sums it up! I can be found almost nightly on the "Liberty" server, so if you see me running around...let's team up and squash some do-gooders!

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Posted by Malcolm at 06:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

The holidays have come and gone, and so has our Volvo. On Christmas Eve, the timing belt blew, ramming a piston hard into the cylinder, denting it badly. Jillian had the car towed, then spent the rest of the day drinking bloody marys at the TGI Friday's next door, where I imagine a lot of people go to drown their automotive woes.

So the next day, we learn there are three options for a 16 year old car that we paid $2500 bucks for.

1. Have the cylinder machined, at a cost of about 3000 dollars. This may then cause further problems, though, on an engine with 150k miles on it.
2. Replace the engine. This is actually less expensive, but hard to tell what you're getting.
3. Junkyard the car and get a big loan from some sleazeball loan shark to buy some little assbreather new car.

None of these options are attractive to me. So for now, we are driving Jillian's sister's 1989 Dodge Aries, a real charmer that needs a new muffler, a new battery, and every single piece of cosmetic work you can imagine.

We don't know what we are going to do. The idea of junking the car is heartbreaking, since it is in incredible shape, except of course for the engine. On the other hand, dumping that much money into the car seems crazy. So, the Volvo sits at the Firestone place, temporarily abandoned, while we try and figure out what's next. Happy Holidays!

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Posted by Malcolm at 06:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Okay, so at the risk of making this blog even more irrelevant than it already is, what with my hard-hitting coverage of Oreo cookies and sexy pirates, I would now like to take a moment to discuss a movie that was released over a year ago: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It has finally made it to Pay-Per-View, and we watched it this evening. It just ended, and now, as I write this, the original version (starring Gene Wilder) is playing on ABC Family. Expect a few lists.

I got caught up, and got excited about this movie, as I watched the previews last year. A few things hung me up in my excitement, though:

1. I am kind of feeling all set with Tim Burton and his nonsense.
2. My dad's constant vitriol regarding Johnny Depp. I like Johnny Depp. I think he is a handsome-ass man, with bones in his face that I have never seen before. I think he takes brave roles. And I think he is a fine actor. I enjoy him in almost everything he is in. But somehow, my dad's whispers of "fucking move to France, already," combined with, "pinko, un-American, liberal..." etc. somehow still manage to creep into my brain.

With that being said, I tried to enter this movie pure, and forced myself to try not to make comparisons. The original made a big impression on me, and there are parts of it I still think of to this day. However, my summary, after having watched it, is simple. This movie was weird and unnecessary.

Here's what I liked about the original:

1. Gene Wilder's delivery of EVERYTHING, each key moment and line that you remember, was as an aside, delivered with a wink and a nod.
2. The boat scene (with the projections of chickens being born, and other scary stuff) was deeply troubling.
3. The scene at the end, where Wonka is pretending to be all mad and is sitting in his weird room of half-stuff. "I said, good DAY, sir!"
4. Oddly, and I didn't realize it until now, the musical numbers.
5. The fact that I found 10-year-old Veruca Salt unsettlingly attractive.

Now, here's what I DIDN'T like about the original:

1. The kid that played the original Charlie Bucket kind of creeped me out.
2. The foam truck was completely unnecessary. And bizarre. Not to mention needlessly erotic, somehow.
3. Why did the four grandparents have to lie around together all day? That must stink to high heaven.

Okay, still with me? Let's move on to the Tim Burton remake. Here's what I dug:

1. The Willy Wonka backstory, though wildly panned by critics, was really the most interesting part of the movie for me. It was the only stuff that was NEW, and not a pale recreation of the original's scenes, only not played by anyone subtle or compelling.
2. The whole thing LOOKED frikkin' gorgeous, and was a lot of fun to simply SEE.
3. The Violet-into-blueberry transformation was great, and on the whole, a lot of the kids were well cast.
4. I also liked Mike Teevee's character upgrade to smart-alecky, too smart, video gamer and TV kid. And his scene at the end was great...kept the same weird white-on-white aesthetic that made such an impression on me as a kid.
5. The kind of shellacked, polyurethaned-quality that most of the actors had.
6. Those squirrels freaked me out.
7. The movie lasts about an hour past where you expect it to end (where the original did). And there is lots more to learn. Also, the great Glass Elevator was pretty dope.

Now, for what I didn't like. Strap in, there's a lot here.

1. Johnny Depp just really screwed this up. He decided to just play it as "bizarre for no reason," in spite of being given a whole lot more to work with. There is absolutely nothing special about his performance. There you go, Dad.
2. Though I tried not to compare, I really did, there were SO many things that I wanted to be there from the original. No fizzy-lifting drink room? No "WONK! WONK! She's a bad egg" moment, none of the parts that made a much bigger impression on me then I remembered.
3. Just when I was missing the musical parts, the Oompa Loompas burst into song. And they did a few more times, with each song reflecting a different musical styling. But all the songs were weak. And why are the Oompa Loompas now all this tiny Indian dude?
4. Speaking of which, WHY were the Oompa Loompas not a consistent SIZE? Sometimes they were three apples tall (Smurf style), and others appeared to hit at about mid thigh.
5. This movie, in spite of SEEMING hyper-stylized, had in fact, WAY less style than the original.
6. In a way, I kind miss the time when movies actually had to DO the things that were being filmed. In the original movie, the chocloate fountain was really just a lot of brown water, rather than a CG slurry of thickness. But it was REAL, and actually THERE. Want to film a boat ride? Well, your actors actually have to BE on a boat. This is probably not a reflection of this movie in particular, just how I am kind of feeling lately.
7. Sigh. The biggest, most non-professional assessment, is I am just sick of Time Burton's shit.

In conclusion, I was never one of those stoned "Willy Wonka, duuuuuuuuude" kind of guys. But this movie was dear to me. And the remake hits a lot of things right. But for the most part, you keep coming back to the same thing: There was no reason for this. All the CGI and special effects in the world can't compete with the subtle brilliance of the original. Taking the insanity and making it more overt doesn't improve the story, one bit.

Do I wish I could un-watch it? No. Would I recommend it to anyone who loved the original? Nope, there's nothing more to see here.

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Posted by Malcolm at 10:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Peanut butter double stuff oreos. x5. True dat? Double true. I love how wet and gnarly this photo looks, of my ridiculous cookie habits.

Although flavored Oreos just make me wish I were eating normal Oreos.

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Posted by Malcolm at 12:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Welp, I am entirely unsure what to make of this. It's a blog with a purpose, and it's Cocaine Corner. Is it being unbelieveably clever, and commenting on the recent resurgence of cocaine use in NYC? Is it straight parody? Is it really just a chronicle of someone who loves cocaine? The meaning is not obvious, but two things are clear.

1. First, the writing style is impeccable and hilarious, complete with a Zagat's-style guide to hotspots. For example:

   Jon Sampson's Bedroom, 21st and 1st: Sampson's bedroom, a "hidden gem" of drug havens located in a small basement apartment in Peter Cooper Village is "little known" and "off the beaten path," but "well worth the trip" for "plentiful helpings" of "excellent quality blow (for NYC." If you can put up with Sampson's "incessant, incoherent ramblings" concerning such topics as "the ongoing war in Vietnam" and "why Jane Fonda ruined America," and don't feel awkward frequenting the home of a "blown out Vietnam vet who lives with his cranky Irish mother," you "won't be able to feel your tongue until 12 hours after you run out of stuff," you'll be "so high."

2. This blog jogs my memory, both positive and negative. On the one hand, you've got sniffing drugs off some girl's neck in the basement of a nightclub at four in the morning, and there's nothing sexier or more NYC than that. But on the other (now much more relevant) hand, man, it's horrible to see bar bathroom lines get so held up and congested.

At any rate, this guy is either a genius or a full-on drug addict. But he sure is funny.

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Posted by Malcolm at 05:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Did you miss the Lazy Sunday music video on Saturday Night Live? I did, but thanks to The Internet, this clip is spreading way beyond its original air-date audience.

Is it satirizing rap music? X-TREME culture? The Chronicles of Narnia? Or the way nerdy New Yorkers spend a Sunday? Is it making me laugh? Yes, yes, yes, definitely, and YES. Check it out.

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Posted by Malcolm at 11:34 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

Looking for a way to recreate the joy of trying to watch scrambled Spice Channel when you were 12 years old, only with more overt nightclub overtones? Meet the GrooveTube.

"The Groovetube is simply a translucent plastic box that suction cups to the screen of your television. It has a grid of dividers inside it that diffuse the colors from your T.V. producing an amazing colorful abstraction of anything you watch."

That means that you can watch Dog the Bounty Hunter at your next drunken get together, or you can enjoy a disco abstraction of Anthony Bourdain's No Reservations. Either way, you are a godamned winner. And at $45 bucks, the price ain't bad, either.

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Posted by Malcolm at 04:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Malcolm and I grumbled all the way to Park Slope Saturday night. As I got ready, got gas, bought wine, and coffee for the road, I kept muttering why why why. It seemed so unfair, so cruel, to have to drive all that way to drink and be merry, when all I wanted to do was read and sleep and watch T.V. But my best friend Angela Bernice Delecke and her boy, the Excellent Urs Ross were having The Holiday Party, and I knew it was anathema to skip it.

Their apartment was festive and warm, and we relaxed into early drinks and chatter. Tadd poured Prosecco and mandarin vodka, a heady combination, and down the rabbit hole I went. Couples came in from the cold bearing wine. We all acted lovely and refined, as we are, and exchanged totally pleasant pleasantries.

I had decided somewhere around Larchmont that I was going to be alienating and mendacious, and not engage in a single serious conversation all night. "I'm studying to be a butcher" was one idea that I don't believe I actually practiced. I did for sure mention that I planned to dip my balls in the chocolate fountain, and I'm nearly certain that act of treachery was not performed. I can tell you that I used a plastic sword to slather marshmallows and fruit slices with the burbling brown goo, which I deposited into the waiting mouths of various friends and strangers.

Many of the guests, longtime friends of Angela and Urs, are favorites of Malcolm and I. We've all been tubing together in Phoenicia, spent sordid afternoons eating clam strips and riding the Cyclone at Coney, and consumed enough PBR to ensure a bond for life.

I had already started wielding a sword when we descended to the basement to break open the pinata. It was here that we found the seat of our collective crimes of that night. At the tiki themed bar we took shots of rum from the tequila donkey. Jackie used nunchucks to strike the first blow to the pinata and Brian Urbano, a lawyer I think, finished the job with his skull. I was engaged in swordplay and extemporaneous songwriting we couldn't remember the moment after, and I drank anything that was put in fron of me.

We drank recklessly. We sang and smoked and swashbuckled. We danced with abandon. We became something else. It was the sort of party that could have happened in East Egg in the second decade of the twentieth century. I awoke in the guestroom wearing no pants but my party shirt and I knew a boy must have put me to bed. I checked for my jewelry and appendages and all seemed in tact. Malcolm was there next to me breathing.

It was a truly sublime soiree. Hats and pants off to Angela and Urs, for bringing together so many awesome people, serving some fabulous food and letting us drink all their booze. I salute you.

It's Monday and I'm returning to what has become routine and yet it seems some alternate reality; only two days in time, as we conceive it, but I can't stop thinking: Why am I here and not there, living my real life, as a tequila-shooting pirate in a basement in Brooklyn?

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Posted by Jillian at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

What's the easiest way to turn a beat up old Oldsmobille Silhouette van into something special? Slap on some decals, and give it the same designation as the Starship Enterprise that Captain Jean-Luc Picard flew. Beats spinners and a drop kit, any day of the week.

Pure joy spotted in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn.

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Posted by Malcolm at 09:51 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Anxious to pick up an XBOX 360 for your little nephew, who will stop thinking of you as his favorite uncle if you fail to deliver? You've got options. Pay $700 on eBay? Nah, that's for chumps. Wait until February when they release not only more systems, but also maybe some games that might be fun to play? Nah, the fanboy in you can't have THAT noise. The way I see it, you've got two options.

1. It's all about December 18th. I have it on pretty good authority from a Best Buy employee, that they will be receiving a fresh shipment that day. In fact, the December 18th Best Buy advertisement will be featuring the system, so you had better believe that they will have a few in stock. If you live in New York or Los Angeles, you're probably screwed, as word will travel fast and you'll STILL have to get there at 11PM the night before. But New Haven, Minneapolis, or Worcester, you're in good shape.

2. The Target Store Line is its own worst enemy: If you call "guest services," (you can read that as "2000 miles of voicemail") sometime after midnight but before 8 AM, when the stores open, go through the system to inquire about the availability of an item. The machine will ask for some of your personal info (name, address, phone number, email, etc) and then the SKU/Item number you’d like them to do an inventory search for. They will search the inventory database within a certain radius of your home zip code and tell you what stores have the item in their inventory as of the refresh from the prior night. What does this mean to you? You know as soon as all the individual stores do, what's in stock and what's not.

Target Guest Services (800) 303-0308
Premium XBOX 360 SKU: 207-21-0001
Core XBOX 360 SKU: 207-21-0002

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Posted by Malcolm at 12:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Dear Sir or Madam,

I once again find myself in a position that requires my seeking a means of earning wages and passing time. Idle hands are the devil's plaything, and though not very useful in typing or building my hands ought to be engaged, for Goodness' sake, in some or another business. I'm not very skilled with numbers, and therefore do not take notice of incorrect or insufficient payment in exchange for labor. I don't have a work ethic to speak of, as evidenced by a spotty resume that includes periods of un- and underemployment. I do hold a Bachelor of Arts degree, having studied works in the humanities, and know a bit about literature and art, though as yet no one has cared to request recital or application of this knowledge or way of knowing. I'm not at all strong or logical or practical. I'm neither a leader nor a team player. I am not a very clever problem solver, and when working independently my mind wanders hither and thither, far from the task at hand. In the course of a workday I can appear sweet, sincere and intelligent, though I would say as often I am sullen and sick, depressed and disengaged. I enjoy long lunch breaks, a quiet corner office with breathtaking view, an absent and often intoxicated boss, and European-style paid vacations. There are a very few things I do with no small amount of style and grace, and a particularly intrepid employer could find a certain satisfaction in my quotidian paid presence. Please feel free to reply if you have any further questions regarding my qualifications. Forged references available upon request.

Yours Sincerely,
Jillian Marie Raucci

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Posted by Jillian at 11:42 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

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Posted by Malcolm at 09:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Slate continues the excellent week-long series on one man's solo trek through Baja, with parts three and four of the series. If you are not already on board and reading this, maybe this excerpt will convince you:

"I pitch my tent on the sand about 10 feet from the lapping high tide. This friendly guy and his wife introduce themselves. It turns out they're from Vancouver, British Columbia, and they come to camp on this particular, semi-secret beach for several weeks each year. The guy offers me a beer, and soon enough we're standing waist deep in the crystalline waters of the Sea of Cortez, sipping cans of Tecate, soaking up the sunshine. As we chat, a 6-inch-long fish leaps out of the water between us and flops backs down with a splash. A flock of pelicans swoops by, skimming low over the waves."

There's only one day left in this series, so get on over to Slate and get caught up before this series finishes up tomorrow.

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Posted by Malcolm at 10:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Film: Walk the Line.

Featuring: Joaquin Phoenix's hairlip, a guy I kep thinking was John Voight, Reese "lemme lick yo' face" Witherspoon, and some sexy prescription pills

Running Time: Maybe just a hair (lip) too long..I had to pee thrice

Impression: left with a good sense of the road, the South, unrequited love, longing, guilt, rejection, bad ass country rock n' roll, the genesis of a tragic hero

Book: Kitchen Confidential, Anthony Bourdain

Featuring: Tony the trusted narrator, a lanky, smarty, ballsy, fancy chef, solid writer, winningly smug personality

Running Time: I read it in a Sunday and a sick day with quickness.

Impression: Not as scandalous as I expected, insighful and witty and deftly wrought. His description of food and zeitgeist are a pleasure. You can taste these places, for better or worse.

Food: Pizza

Featuring: Mozarella, Basil, Tomato Sauce

Running Time: 20 minutes prep, 20 in the oven

Impression: Next time, we grease the pan...still, pretty goddamn delissimo

Enjoy Kittens!

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Posted by Jillian at 01:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

So, Slate has been running what could very well be the best thing I've read in a long, long time. It is the travel journal of one man and his automotive solo journey along Baja, from Tijuana to Cabo. Part one and two have already been released. A few quick excerpts:

Day One:
"My own walk along the street is greeted with come-ons from every strip-club doorway (these make up a goodly percentage of the doorways as a whole). One tout even walks with me down the sidewalk, offering me all manner of delight. When I show little interest, he asks: 'You don't like girls? I know a gay club.' Still getting no response, he takes a surprise tack. 'Are you trying to be rude?' he asks. 'Are you doing the rude thing? Cuz I can be rude, too.' I'd prefer not to learn what this entails."

Day Two:
"Over in the booth by the window, a group of crusty old gringo sport-fishers is ordering tray after tray of those lagoon-sized margaritas. Now one of these wrinkled guys limps over and leans in, unsteadily, toward my ear. His voice is a growl, and his breath reeks of half-digested limes. 'You might want to get your friend out of here before he gets his ass kicked,' the man says. He leans back to stare unblinkingly into my eyes."

Don't miss out on this series!

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Posted by Malcolm at 01:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Friday
6:00: awoke to confirm snow and no school. a day out of time. silent cheer and kiss the cat and back to bed.
10:00: heavy flakes still floating down. appreciation and coffee. Vanity Fair and Jane Eyre.
Noonish: On Demand rules! start altering (gorgeous) bridesmaid dress into (hopefully kick ass) party dress.
Ten after Noonish: Remember am kind of a sucky seamstress. Press on in spite of this revelation.
Afternoon: Dig out Volvo with help from neighbor and Mailman Mike. Drive to the gym feeling self-satisfied.
Gym: eliptical. on the iPOD: Joan Jett. MIA. Beastie Boys. The Clash. The Bravery. Bowie. Rihanna. (wince)
Later that Night: walk in the fallen snow to maggie and dan's. Lauren is here and malcolm joins us a bit later. cozy.

Saturday
Morning: Freaks and Geeks and eggs. James Franco is a super dreamboat. Malcolm hearts Lindsay Weir. sigh.
Afternoon: Mad Hot Ballroom is urban and darling and moving though sometimes sweaty.
Evening: Indian Food and The Fantasy of Lights...just as I imagined, magical and spicy.

Sunday
Breakfast: oreos and milk. Kitchen Confidential: evocative, clever, delicious.
Lunch: Diet Coke consumed while finally watching Walk the Line. wish I were famous and a singer and coveted.
Dinner: Thursday's Haddock Today with sparkling wine and America's Funniest Videos. malcolm and me and kitten.

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Posted by Jillian at 01:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Wow, Christmas is zooming up on us a lot faster than I realized...it's time to unveil my Amazon wish list. Now, there has been some discussion over on Dan's blog about this. If you plan to buy me a present (even though I will almost certainly not be buying you one) you should by no means feel pressured to get the EXACT thing from the list, and have it shipped through Amazon. Rather, I like to think of wish lists as more of a guide for the things I happen to be into right now. Check it out!

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Posted by Malcolm at 11:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Governess
Cowgirl
Geisha
Burlesque Performer
Shark Wrangler
Train Robber
Nun

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Posted by Jillian at 10:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

5 oz. Chilled Champagne
1 oz. Pernod

Also, Hemingway book on the art of torero. (bullfighting)

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Posted by Jillian at 10:28 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Thank you, Video Hits One, for your entire schedule of non-shows. They make for the most delicious post-drinking day of television. Between Best Week Ever, Fabulous Life of..., I Love the 70s, I Love the 80s, I Love the 80s Part Deux, I Love the 80s 3-D, My Coolest Years, and the wide, wide assortment of countdown shows, never has it been easier to still be watching TV BUT BUT BUT not learning, thinking or even really seeing anything. And with the new season of Celebreality coming up, it looks like my nights will be covered, as well. So once again, thank you VH-1. You are exactly what I ask of television.

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Posted by Malcolm at 02:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Wondering what you should be saving your money for this Spring? Meet Harrington Scooters, where I plan to buy my deliciously restored 150cc Vespa. The problem with Vespas, is that the original models are prohibitively expensive here in the states, and the new models are mostly made of plastic. Where ISN'T this the case? In Vietnam.

In Vietnam, scooters of all shapes and sizes are as plentiful as can be. There have recently been many small boutique restoration shops started, who are more than happy to ship to the US. In my opinion, Harrington is doing the best job. They take old, unloved Vespas and Lambrettas, completely strip them down, and rebuild them from the ground up over around 2000 hours using 38 guys. The result?

You go from this...

...to THIS:

...And all for a lot less than you might think. Fully restored, 40 year old road tested Vespas start at around two grand, plus the cost of shipping to your nearest international port. Sure beats what those smug, posturing Vespa jerks are trying to get for their bikes here in the states. For Vespa quality without the smarm or expense, check out the Harrington Group.

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Posted by Malcolm at 03:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (15)

If you have an email address, you've gotten the emails. A mysterious African prince's father was killed, and he is desperately trying to flee the country. He has contacted YOU because you are a trustworthy, upstanding citizen. And what's more, he is going to split what remains of his family's fortune, provided YOU help him get his money out of the country.

These scams have been around for so long, that it's hard to understand how people could still be falling for them. They're called 419 scams, and here's how the US Secret Service classifies them:

4-1-9 Schemes frequently use the following tactics:

• An individual or company receives a letter or fax from an alleged "official" representing a foreign government or agency.
• An offer is made to transfer millions of dollars in "over invoiced contract" funds into your personal bank account.
• You are encouraged to travel overseas to complete the transaction.
• You are requested to provide blank company letterhead forms, banking account information, telephone/fax numbers.
• You receive numerous documents with official looking stamps, seals and logo testifying to the authenticity of the proposal.
• Eventually you must provide up-front or advance fees for various taxes, attorney fees, transaction fees or bribes.
• Other forms of 4-1-9 schemes include: c.o.d. of goods or services, real estate ventures, purchases of crude oil at reduced prices, beneficiary of a will, recipient of an award and paper currency conversion.

Well, someone is finally fighting back. Enter 419Eater. Their goal, through playing along with the scammers, is to cost them as much money as possible, while avoiding getting killed. When you have a few HOURS to kill, read through the full email transcripts, and see how foolish and desperate these scammers end up becoming. I particularly suggest reading the "I DON'T KNOW ABOUT ART BUT I KNOW WHAT I LIKE" story. Though it is many pages long, it is well worth the effort.

But first, a warning from the 419Eaters themselves:

WARNING
419 scammers are not nice people, they are thieves, liars, and generally very nasty, therefore you can expect some small use of adult language and themes when dealing with them here.

Enjoy!

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Posted by Malcolm at 03:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I wanted to talk about a pretty cool looking site I found today called FreeNewConsoles.com. It's the same type of deal you've seen again and again...enter your info, sign up for an offer, and get your prize...but without the clutter and 200-page registration forms you have seen everywhere else. This one truly seems legit, has brand name sponsors like Citibank and Netflix, and with a few referrals, who knows...it may just work. If nothing else, it's worth a shot to not have to stand in line or pay 1000 bucks on eBay to get your next generation video game console.

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Posted by Malcolm at 11:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

The Committee has approved the following titles
for The People's consideration:

Middlesex
Jeffrey Eugenides

A House for Mr. Biswas
V.S. Naipaul

Your comments will be taken under advisement.

As always, public opinion is necessarily that of the State.
Dissidents and their families have already been purged.

With striking new epaulettes on my shoulders
and the well-being of the State in my breast,

The General

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Posted by Jillian at 09:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

It's December, and that means it's time to get fat so that when spring rolls around, and gym advertisements try and make us feel bad about ourselves, their marketing dollars won't be spent in vain. Winter is my favorite season for cooking, because it means lots of chilis, stews, bogs, and burgoos. And in honor of the new snowfall, I made my favorite macaroni and cheese in the world last night.

What makes this macaroni and cheese so special? Four things. First, it has a healthy amount of gruyere, which makes it smell like a butt but taste wonderfully nutty and rich. Second, the butter-sauteed homemade breadcrumbs on top create one of the most wonderful crusts in the world. Third, the inclusion of a little cayenne pepper adds a little background heat, without making the dish read as spicy. Finally, unlike the way Martha does it, I like to use cavatappi pasta instead of elbows. Cavatappi pasta is like an elbow, only repeated several times for more substance.

Ready to crawl inside your face and kick your tongue's ass?

Marthalcolm's Macaroni and Cheese
Source: ©2002 Martha Stewart Living Omnimedia, Inc. (with some changes)
Author: Martha Stewart, mainly.
Servings: 6 - 8
Prep Time: 10 minutes
Cook Time: 55 minutes

Ingredients:
8 tbsps (1 stick) salted butter, plus more for dish
6 slices white bread, crusts removed, torn into 1/4 to 1/2-inch pieces
5 1/2 cups milk
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper
1/4 tsp cayenne pepper, or to taste
4-1/2 cups (18 oz) sharp cheddar cheese, grated
2 cups (8 oz) Gruyere cheese, grated
1-lb cavatappi or elbow macaroni

Preparation:

1. Heat the oven to 375 degrees F. Butter a 3-quart casserole dish; set aside.


2. Place bread in a medium bowl. In a small saucepan over medium heat, melt 2 tablespoons butter. Pour butter into the bowl with bread, and toss. Set bread crumbs aside.


3. In a medium saucepan set over medium heat, heat milk. Melt remaining 6 tablespoons butter in a high-sided skillet over medium heat. When butter bubbles, add flour. Cook, whisking, 1 minute. While whisking, slowly pour in hot milk. Continue cooking, whisking constantly, until the mixture bubbles and becomes thick. Remove pan from heat. Stir in salt, nutmeg, black pepper, cayenne pepper, 3 cups cheddar cheese, and 1 1/2 cups Gruyere; set cheese sauce aside.


4. Fill a large saucepan with water; bring to a boil. Add macaroni; cook 2 to 3 minutes less than manufacturer's directions, until the outside of pasta is cooked and the inside is underdone. (Different brands of macaroni cook at different rates; be sure to read the instructions.) Transfer macaroni to a colander, rinse under cold running water, and drain well.


5. Stir macaroni into the reserved cheese sauce. Pour mixture into prepared dish. Sprinkle remaining 1 1/2 cups cheddar cheese, 1/2 cup Gruyere, and bread crumbs over top.


6. Bake until browned on top, about 30 minutes. Transfer dish to a wire rack to cool 5 minutes; serve hot.

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Posted by Malcolm at 11:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Holy crap Christmas, I almost forgot...the whole gang was in Play Magazine the week of November 23th, for the news-making trick of being both "drunk" and "in public" at the same time. Keep up the good work, Play, and you might just make it to FIRST of the second-tier New Haven newspapers. That is, if that hard-hitting article on "How to Eat Leftovers" hasn't already done the trick. Awe, just kiddin' Play, you know I love you. Don't be sore, baby.

Click the image above for the big 150k version. And for bonus points, find the following people: Dan, Maggie, Lauren, Jillian, and myself.

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Posted by Malcolm at 11:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

As part of The State's continuing effort to improve The People through The Program known affectionately as the The Large Leap Ahead, we are imposing a book club in which The People are free to read the chosen material and expected to meet in a public forum to exchange State-approved ideas related directly to the literature at hand.

To proffer the illusion of democracy, the people will be given options; The Committe will ultimately decide what is read.

Your participation will be rewarded.

Who's Reading...We're Reading !

With Military Dignity and Abiding Love for the State,

The General

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Posted by Jillian at 11:24 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Man 1: That last post was not very funny.
Man 2: No. No, it wasn't.

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Posted by Jillian at 11:12 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

I always focused on the flimsy Truman Capote. Holly-Go-Lightly, attendant swans, the black and white ball. I love that in this biopic, titled simply Capote, the whole life of a discretely whole man is unfurled as he susses out the events of a heartland murder and writes the nonfiction novel In Cold Blood. It's heavy. duh. The film succeeds in demonstrating how a singular and sincere direction can elevate an artist to liminal heights, and can both save and destroy a person. There is no decadence in Iowa, or Kansas or wherever the murders happened, no literati, no artifice, no pretense. And in the course of a film, a disconcerting friendship, and through this device -?!- the gossamer veil of ego is lifted to reveal a sensitive, conflicted soul. The total brilliance of this character revelation is in no small way due to the transcendent performance of the resplendent Philip Seymour Hoffman ( hereafter, P.S.H.)

We are introduced to Truman at a cocktail party in Manhattan, holding court. Discussing the autobiographical nature of all writing, including fiction, including his fiction, he tells his audience with irony that belies honesty, that he is not interested yet in writing about himself. Here, it's all so modern and glamorous. Nothing anyone says is quite true or untrue. When the hero descends into the terrible drama, his created self gives way to a more profound being. None of this is stated in a ham-fisted sort of way. (see above) It is demonstrated with the subtle gesture and wide, wintry shots of waste farm land. P.S.H. immerses his large, freckled, protean form into the mind of the man and becomes him, in every mannerism, slight, and suspicion. He and the filmakers allow us to feel sympathy, empathy, estrangement, and, ultimately, as if perhaps we've been duped. The Truth is never certain and morals are not fixed. The telling of the story does the telling of one story, all stories justice. It is sufficiently tragi-comic. Go bawl your eyes out. Then have a glass of champagne someplace fabulous.

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Posted by Jillian at 09:31 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Because we're nothing else if we're not gun-jumpers, Jillian and I got our Christmas tree up before December even rolled around:

Pictured above: Our creepily awesome cat angel for the top of the tree, our real cat's new favorite place to sleep all day, and our giant mesmerizing plastic penguin wearing a scarf. Not pictured: The 60 watt light bulb that lights that smug sonuvabitch up bright enough to read by.

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Posted by Malcolm at 09:59 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)