I'm f---ing Matt Damon.

My Republican friends might want to skip this one, unless you are seriously dissatisfied with your party's VP candidate.  I love you all dearly, and you know how much I hate to talk politics, and I DEFINITELY don't want a political debate in my comments, but I had to share this because it kind of makes me hot:

I actually have a great deal of respect for John McCain.  I like that, for possibly the first time ever, I actually think both parties have managed to pick candidates that I wouldn't be mortified to have representing me as my leader.  I can handle having a President that I disagree with, I just can't handle having a Commander-in-Chief who doesn't know how to pronounce the word "nuclear."  However, I must thank Matt Damon for putting so successfully into words why I will be very, VERY frightened if McCain is elected. 

That, and on the teleprompter during her speech at the convention, they actually felt the need to spell the word "nuclear" phonetically for her.

I am definitely too old to be watching MTV.

Yeah, I admit it.  But my lust for all things pop-cultural and my desire to not, in fact, fold my laundry or do my dishes means that I must watch the increasingly-irrelevant VMAs.  And, since I did it last year, according to my brother's and my defintion as kids, that makes it tradition.  Therefore, I must share my thoughts.  Read my stream of consciousness at thine own risk.

 

Okay, first of all, how stupid is it that the VMAs are not, in fact, airing on MTV here?  I thought they might be on CTV, since they license a lot of MTV shows, but no, they are on Much Music.  Which is the most asinine thing I have ever heard of.  We have MTV in Canada, but they are not allowed to air the MTV VMAs.

 

I am so thrown by Kim from ANTM being a VMA personality - she did the throwaway fashion special, but so did Fonzworth Bentley.  But now she is on the red carpet.  Fuck the what?  She is looking strangely hunchy and hippy.

 

Why is Sway in a helicopter?  And why is he asking Katy Perry, "Have you received any backlash from the 'moral authorities' across the country?"  Dude, even Evangelicals know that that song is fluff and has nothing whatsoever to do with homosexuality.

 

Why...WHY is John Norris still pretending he is young and cool?  Dude, you have been ON MTV as long as I have been WATCHING it.  Which is longer than either one of us would like to admit.

 

Love how when Sway says to Benji Madden "we haven't partied in a while, Benji" it sounds like "we haven't partied in a while, bitch."

 

God, if you love me, you will make the Jonas Brothers go away.

And Miley Cyrus.  Who has apparently feuded with Katy Perry.  Apparently.  Who knew?

 

Okay, I have no idea who Paramore is, but they just arrived in SmartCars.  Two of them, because they can only fit half the group in each one.  Holy crap dude...do you look like a wenus, riding bitch in a SmartForTwo.

(I kind of want a SmartCar, but not so much that I don't want the man in my life to feel inadequate when climbing out of it.)

 

Who knew Alexander MacQueen made maternity wear?  Ashlee Simpson, that's who.

 

This is what I like about MTV.  They let people use backing tracks, but you can still tell when they're actually singing and when they're not.  Rihanna, I'm looking at you.

 

Russell Brand's monologue is...weird.  I think something was lost in translation.  He seems to think he's talking to a sophisticated, well-informed, and non-American audience.  This is MTV, Russell.

WOW is the Best Female Video category lame.  No wonder they no longer show videos on MTV.

Awww...Britney finally won her first VMA.  For one of her worst videos.  I think MTV is officially an enabler.

 

Much...was it really necessary to replay Britney's speech?  I think not.

 

Demi Moore IS the Bionic Woman.

 

Okay, the male nominees are pretty lame as well.  But Chris Brown IS hot.

 

Somebody please shoot Russell Brand.  Yes, we get it, not a fan of the "virginal" Jonas Brothers.  Please let it go now.

 

Oh, Jonas Brothers.  I can forgive backing tracks on voices when people are dancing, but backing tracks on guitar?  At least TRY to look like you're actually playing that thing in your lap. No wonder you're still a virgin.  Everyone knows that playing guitar is a good way to get laid.  And then there's the one with the tambourine, in that oh-so-Tracy-Partridge kind of way.  Okay, I must confess that I had passed judgment on you without ever having seen you perform or hearing one of your songs.  And now I have to say...my hasty judgments were RIGHT ON THE MONEY.

 

Have I mentioned how much I hate the MuchMusic host?

 

Michael Phelps, I appreciate that we share a fondness for the ghetto fabulous, but please learn to enunciate.  You always sound like there's a wad of spit somewhere around your molars that needs swallowing. 

And then do me in a most Olympic manner. 

Leona Lewis, thank you for actually singing.

Why is Paris Hilton on my TV?

 

WHAT is Lindsay Lohan wearing???

When a group named "Fanny Pack" outclasses you, you know you've got problems.

I can't believe I am actually rooting for the Pussycat Dolls.

AND THEY WON!

To be fair, that asnine song is one of the few songs that actually makes me enjoy running.  For approximately three minutes.

 

Number of winners that have thanked God: 2

Because I'm sure God was on the edge of His seat, fingers crossed, pulling for a bunch of half-naked floozies to win Best Dance Video.

 

I think if I had to vote for Best New Artist, I would actually vote for Miley Cyrus.  Because I actually kind of like that "7 Things I Hate About You" song.  I realize that that completely blows all of my indie cred, but it's not like I ever had any in the first place, so I am at peace with that.

 

Oh, so that's who Paramore are.  They sing that song.

 

Love how MTV Canada is actually airing socially relevant programming during the VMAs.  Why must MTV Canada be so much classier than the original?

 

WHY...are Slash and Shia LeBoeuf presenting together?  One of the greatest metal guitarists of all time and...well...someone whose name means "follow the beef"?

 

I do heart Pink.  Even when she's relegated to performing on a cheesy soundstage, she's still hot.

I am kind of enjoying how MTV seems to be embracing the "we're in Hollywood - everything is artifice" dynamic.

 

An even better odd couple than Slash and the LeBoeuf?  Slipknot and McLovin.  Oh yeah.

I am officially rooting for Lupe Fiasco, merely because I am convinced I love him even though I don't know any of his songs offhand, but would probably recognize them if you played them for me.  He is just one of many artists I feel like I need to explore more, because all logic dictates that they are right up my alley.

 

Um...seriously, Jordin Sparks?  Seriously?!?  Sugar, just because you don't wear a promise ring, doesn't mean you're a slut.  I mean, I don't wear a promise ring, and I AM a slut, but my choice of lifestyle does not necessarily reflect on the moral codes of other non-promise-ring-wearers.  Please...PLEASE do not make me go to the abstinence-only-sex-education-is-CRAP place.  This is supposed to be a fun evening.

 

My spellcheck is apparently Republican, because it is taking issue with that ENTIRE LAST PARAGRAPH.  AND THIS ONE.  Fuck the what?

 

Rihanna, I will give you props, because not just anybody can get a crowd going with a mere silhouette.  Sweetheart, you look good.  And this time, you're doing more of the singing.  Good on you.

 

Who the hell are these kids introducing the Aguilera?

Speaking of which, Christina...how very...Blade Runner of you.

 

Holy crap, Britney just won her SECOND ever VMA.  And wow, she just gave the EXACT SAME SPEECH.  Am thinking she has, in fact, been programmed and/or heavily medicated via Larry Rudolph.

 

Yep, kinda in love with Lupe Fiasco.  Moving on.

 

You know, Kid Rock is a cocky, greasy muthafucka.  But the Kid knows music.  And can play multiple instruments.  Not like certain Jonas Brothers I could mention that can't even figure out the right way to hold the tambourine.

 

Oh my God, I almost had to root for the Pussycat Dolls again.  Thank God for the TingTings.

Fuck the what???  BritBot just won again!  No shout-out for God this time, but it is, again, for the fans.

 

So help me, I do love Kanye West.  Even though I find him obnoxious.  He is that rare breed of rapper that can sing on-key.  And make pop-py rap that is still somewhat intellectual.  Good on ya, 'Ye.

 

And this is what I love about the VMAs.  Short, sweet, and very lacking in actual, tedious awards.  Everyone knows that nobody tunes in to see who wins these silly things anyway, and it's nice to see the producers have seen that gauntlet thrown, and responded with a bold, "I'm rubber, you're glue."  God bless you, MTV!  I shall be your cougar slut as long as you'll have me.  MWAH!

This is so cool.

Okay, only readers from my college years such as Em, Will, and Dave can possibly understand why.

This showed up on Entertainment Weekly's main page Wednesday:

Yeah, that's Sarah Drew.  And while I never watched Everwood (although I've been meaning to on DVD - I always heard it was v. good, Sarah's performance in particular), and I DEFINITELY haven't watched Private Practice (I watched Grey's Anatomy for all of about 3/4 of a season before I decided that even I don't have enough self-loathing to sustain that habit), I actually RENTED the movie Radio because I KINDA SORTA USED TO KNOW SARAH DREW.  You know, not in a Facebook-friend kind of way, but in that I-was-on-staff-you-were-in-the-cast-so-we-didn't-really-talk-much-but-were-always-friendly-and-I've-actually-had-dinner-with-you kind of way.  She is ludicrously talented, and an incredibly sweet person, so I'm so glad to see that there are entertainment media types getting as giddy about her getting work as I am.

 

With as many theater folk as I've goofed around with over the years, I actually know more than my share of people who have managed to find gainful employment in the entertainment industry.  But it never fails to blow my mind that they were able to do it.  I recently got the urge to Google one of my old, old friends (I'm not sure what grade we go back to, but I think it was 2nd or 3rd or so when I used to run away from him on the playground because he was Gross) and found out that the guy I was voted Most Likely to be Rich and Famous with...okay, may not be Rich and Famous exactly, but is a Working Actor/Singer with North American tours and reviews and shit on his resume.  He's certainly a hell of a lot closer to Rich and Famous than I'll ever be (I've always been mystified as to how I got that superlative...what did people think I would do, win the Nobel Prize or something?  That's the best shot an uber-nerd like myself has at being Rich AND Famous, and it's a long shot at that.  Rich?  Sure - start a biotech company, sell it right before it goes belly-up, there ya go.  Famous?  I think the only way I could become famous among the general public would be to do something horribly scandalous, like selling my students' kidneys to pay the overhead on my methamphetamine production facility powered entirely by un-neutered kittens.  Even if I DID win a Nobel Prize, the cash prize is only about 1.5 million dollars - which hardly qualifies one as terribly rich in this day and age - and the fame is...well, how many of you have actually heard of Kary Mullis or Herbert C. Brown?).

 

So pardon me if this makes me a wee bit giddy.  Because, while Fearless Leader just told me I'm getting a raise (YAY!), this is probably about as close as I will realistically ever come to being Rich and Famous myself.  And I am thrilled.

Letters from the front: Day 3.

Sunday starts much the same as Saturday did: I am up early, with very little to keep me amused.  But there's one small difference this time: now I have friends other than Brother and Girlfriend.  Two of my new friends (Ashlyn and Luphin) are also up early, and headed up to the Merchants to get coffee.  They invite me along. 

This is the only War I know of that has coffee shops.

Sitting and chatting with these people over my very Period German Chocolate coffee, it's weird to think that I've known them for less than 48 hours.  In fact, that's a common theme with the people I met at War - it's hard to imagine that there was a time when I didn't know them.  There's no small talk with these people...just conversation.  It's easy, and interesting, and fun...right off the bat.  It's rare to find a group with that kind of chemistry.  I want to do a little bit of shopping now that it's daylight and I can actually figure out where the hell I am, but the Merchants aren't really open yet for the most part.  Ashlyn asks what I am looking for, and my top priorities are a belt and pouch.  These are essential - pockets are not very Period, so a belt is the primary means of transport for money and all of the other things one needs to carry around.

When we come back to camp, Brother and Girlfriend are stirring, and making breakfast.  I sit down to have another cup of coffee and some cereal with them, and Ashlyn appears with a belt and a pouch for me to use until I can buy my own.  This is the same girl who helped Girlfriend make some of my Garb without even knowing me - seriously, these are awesome people.  Girlfriend is going to a Persian Veil class in the early afternoon, and I figure that sounds like fun.  Plus, I'm DYING to get out and do something outside of camp, since I still don't really know my way around.  Have I mentioned this place is HUGE???

The Persian veil class is taught in a smaller tent, tucked in amongst some of the other camps, rather than the main teaching areas.  Walking down there gives me a chance to get more of a lay of the land and see how some of the other camps live.  This is the area that contains some of the more established, better-known camps.  There are actual Structures still under construction - castles, Viking ships, pirate ships, Roman camps...a little bit of everything.  Some of these camps are legendary for various reasons: fabulous parties, the pubs they run in the evenings, or perhaps taking themselves a little too seriously.  Some of the members of my camp settled at Blood Moon after defecting from other camps because they were too busy being Period to remember to have Fun.  This is a common ailment among SCA types - once you take something that is fundamentally silly (grown-ass people playing make-believe) and start introducing things like power struggles and politics and work ethics...well, you're kind of missing the point. 

Class starts off slowly, but by the end I'm glad I went.  I learned that Persian veil is a little different than regular veil because it was originally intended as a private show.  Wives would come out completely naked, only covered by an opaque veil, and perform this dance to seduce their husbands, only revealing small portions of their body at a time before eventually dropping the veil and going for it.  While I appreciate this morsel of historic context, I spend the next hour trying not to think about the fact that I am taking this class with MY BROTHER'S GIRLFRIEND.  I already feel like I know way more than I want to about their sex life, and this is NOT HELPING.  (If you do not understand why this might be traumatic, please see pictures from Day 2.  Even if you're not related to him, nobody really wants to imagine Brother naked.  Take it from my cousin's wife, after a pile-on gone horribly, HORRIBLY awry: "So....much...hair!")  One of the moves we learned involved tucking part of the veil into your waistband.  The natural question here is, how do you do that if you're supposed to be naked?  The answer: you're wearing a belly chain.

Girlfriend and I decide to do some shopping before heading back to camp.  One of the things on her shopping list?

A belly chain.

<BANANAHAMMOCK!!!BANANAHAMMOCK!!!BANANAHAMMOCK!!!>

But at least I'm getting an opportunity to pick up a belt and look at some jewelry and bellydancing garb in the daylight (and take my mind off of my brother's private dancer, a dancer for money, I'll do what you want me to do, DEARGODMAKEITSTOP!).  These are things that you just can't purchase at night.  I haven't found a pouch I like enough to spend actual money on, but at least I've got a loaner, so there's no hurry.

I have left out an important detail here: namely, the flyer we see on our way to class.  One of the camps we pass (sort of a vaguely Robin Hood-ish camp in the woods) is teaching a special dance class that wasn't listed in the formal class listing.  They are teaching it within their camp, and flyers are the only form of advertising.  The sign says:

 

LEARN TO DANCE...THE THRILLER!

 

With a piece of notebook paper right next to it, handwritten, that says:

 

Class 5:00 TONIGHT!!!

 

If you know me even a little bit, you know that I am giggling and clapping uncontrollably at the very notion of a mob of people in miscellaneous Garb, dancing like zombies to the cheesetastic 80's goodness of Michael Jackson.  I mean, seriously, let's just all take a moment to let that mental image sink in.

 

...just let it wash over you...

 

You know what that is?

 

FUCKING FANTASTIC, that's what that is.  It is a creatively anachronistic pop culture wet dream, is what it is.  It is...SO ME I CAN'T STAND IT.  Seriously, it has "Wahooty" written ALL OVER IT.

Honestly, I don't think Girlfriend is all that into it, but she can see how excited I am, and says that she would come back for the class with me.  This is why Girlfriend is amazing.  That, and the fact that she actually likes the thought of my brother naked.

When we make it back to camp, there is a group hanging out under the (Very Period) Tiki Hut again.  We manage to rustle up one or two other dancers with a wee bit of arm-twisting (again, probably would've been a futile effort were it not for my completely unbridled and apparently infectious enthusiasm) and a videographer (because I am NOT ABOUT to spend the next several months telling my friends, "you had to be there!" - this is an event that requires documentation for posterity).  We are all in agreement that this has the potential to be awesome, as long as turnout is good.  Five people in Garb learning the Thriller dance = sad and kinda lame.  Fifty people in Garb learning the Thriller dance = hilarity ensuing/potential YouTube stardom.

We get down to the camp where we saw the flyer.  It is suspiciously quiet.

Hmm...

Apparently, it was an old flyer.  The class was the previous evening.

<pout>

Had this actually happened, it would have gone down as my favorite example of Creative Anachronism for the week.  As it is, it is merely my favorite mental image for the week. 

We drag our disappointed asses back to Blood Moon for dinner and campfire time.  Having managed to rope some of my Clanmates into doing something ludicrous with me (even if we didn't actually get to follow through) has made me truly feel at home in camp.  At home enough that it doesn't feel weird when NostraThomas pulls up a chair to chat with us while we eat.  And explains how he can be a vegetarian, yet not fazed in the least by the pile of rare lamb on the plate on our table, which we are devouring with abandon.  It's so rare to meet a non-preachy, non-judgmental vegetarian.  And, as the group congregates around the campfire after our independent dinners, I'm even feeling comfortable enough to sing aloud in front of these people.  Ashlyn and I are trying to find songs that we both know, and not really succeeding much, but we get an A for effort.  We manage to harmonize a little bit on some showtunes before we let it go.  As the evening wears on, the group dwindles, and eventually I find myself sitting by the fire and chatting with NostraThomas as it dies down.  And I realize that he is asking me questions, not just to make conversation, but because he's actually interested in what I have to say - who I am, where I've come from, what I've been through.  When you've been feeling like the New Kid, it's nice when someone actually wants to know more about you. 

And enjoys your singing.

And will help you hatch your Evil Plan.

But more on that tomorrow.