I Promise, I'm on it.

Alright, I usually save the music recommendations for the end of my posts, seeing as my readers don't all necessarily have the same taste in music as I do, but I just have to post this song first. It's by a band named "Friendly Fires" from England. Lemme tell ya, this band is pure indie-pop goodness. They make incredibly catchy music, and this song (called "Paris") is no exception. I've probably listened to it 10 times in the past two days.



Ok, enough gushing. Did you know that Britney Spears' little sister Jamie Lynn is pregnant? Are you the slightest bit concerned that I learned this on a site called omg.yahoo.com? New low? Maybe. But it honestly looked like she was the only one that was going to get out with a regular showbiz career... but then there poor Jamie Lynn goes, sucked into the churning pop culture machine just like her sister.

I got this sweet ass keyboard for graduation -- it's made out of rubber and is all wiggly and you can bend it and spill shit on it. The only problem is that I type so fast that it can't keep up, and I'm beating the poor thing to death with my frustration.

I read today that Kisten Cavalleri was considering joining the cast of The Hills. Fucking barf. Why try so hard to make a scripted show seem real and then let the press know that you're changing it? And if it's not real anyways, why does it have to be so fucking boring?! This video was up on Funny or Die a few weeks ago -- James Franco and Mila Kunis doing a scene from the show. Their parody is perfect; it perfectly captures the silence made by two people who have nothing interesting to say.



Generally speaking, actors are probably some of the least intelligent people on the planet, but they're the ones we hear talking most -- interviews, TV shows, movies. That's weird. I guess people only want to listen when the person talking is good looking, even if they're not even saying anything interesting.

Anyone hear about the whole Jessica Simpson/Tony Romo clusterfuck? I mean, is that girl cursed? Everything she touches turns to, erm, dirt (?). Romo apparently played the worst game of his life when she was there. What was that? Something about football players hooking up with chicks and then playing like shit? Weird.

Oh, this performance is brilliant. Beruit, the city of Paris, street peformances... you don't get much better. Beruit is a band that Mark introduced me to, and sort of like when I introduced him to Silversun Pickups, I fell in love with the band. Zach Condon is a musical genius... the band uses tons of brass, and acordions, and djimbes... ungh. I love it. So unique.



I had so many things to talk about, but I got to listening to all of this music and now I've found myself staring at my computer screen while thinking of all sorts of non blog-related things. I'm going to go to bed, dear readers. Sweet dreams.

Whoa...

It's finals week. I've been walking around in a daze lately (and not my usual "finals-week-Red Bull-and-stress-induced daze" or "finals-week-freakout-bitchfit-aftermath daze"), because I just cannot believe I'm almost out of here. I've spent my entire life in school, and now I'm expected to go out and get a real job? I mean, it's not like I put everything I had into being an amazing student because I am, admittedly, a "B with sporadic A's" student. (I only started really trying about 2 and a half years ago, in order to get into the business school.) But still, college was the time in my life that I really "found" myself, as cliche as that sounds. I have such a better knowledge of who I am and what I am not than I ever had before.

I don't know if I've mentioned before that I often think about whether or not my life would be different if I could be the person I am now back in high school. If you could glean from a few drunken posts ago, I wasn't "popular" by traditional definition. Well-liked, yes, with friends all over the place, of course, but after a few interesting occurrences over Thanksgiving break, I kind of learned something about myself. I didn't hang out with people that were (gag) "popular" because I couldn't; I didn't hang out with them because I didn't want to. And sure, that sounds like a cop-out, but it's true. Sometimes there is so much more to life than whether or not people want to be like you, and I know that now. I still have a lot of growing to do, but I'm happy with the fact that I've become much more self-realized and confident than I was before.

I also realized that I am wearing the exact same outfit as I wore freshman year -- my grey ski hat, black Alkaline Trio hoodie (which I have lost and found again three times in the past 5 years), jeans and my black converse all stars. Talk about coming full-circle.

Anyways, I'm sure you've come here for something more interesting than me rambling about myself, so here you go.

I'm going to start working full-time at my internship for the next few months, in order to make some money for traveling. This probably means Good Bloggie will be back in full-swing, seeing as I don't have the patience for anything but my dear blog anymore.

Oh! Damnit. I asked Mark what he wanted me to write about on here and he said "the writers' strike". I had these great intentions of writing a well-thought out piece on the implications of thousands of the people who make us laugh everyday up and quitting the very thing they do best, but I, erm, never got around to it. So here it goes, me trying to make up for it.

The Writers' Strike: Gimme My Money, Fool!

Whether it be for information, or entertainment, everyone watches television. Even with the advent of the internet, TV is still a medium before which people enjoy plunking themselves down in front of and basking in its warm, vacuous glow. A show's success is outwardly dependent on its actors and producers, which can be displayed by the popularity of reality television. For a while, reality TV dominated the formulaic sitcoms we had grown so accustomed to, with bigger and better ones coming out every season. But after a while, it seemed that the genre had become exhausted, and networks started springing for different shows. These shows needed actual actors, directors, and most importantly, writers. Shows like Lost and Grey's Anatomy took off, garnering a huge viewership in the millions each week.

Soon after, the networks realized the power they held with respect to their most popular shows. People were becoming attached to the characters and, unlike reality TV, would watch them season after season, forming a bond with each one's personality. A new opportunity emerged, as people started spending more and more time on the internet: the networks now had two ways in which to broadcast their shows, and consequently, two ways in which to get money through advertising. Although viewers weren't expected to sit through 13 minutes of advertising for an hour-long show anymore, they were still willing to endure a smaller amount of it in order to watch their favorite shows at their convenience. Networks put full episodes of their most popular shows on their sites, and began to reap the benefits of the increased profits they brought.

This is where the problem began; the writers of the most popular shows got paid only once, while the networks were benefitting from twice the amount of advertising. The writers were paid less than a cent for each click, while the networks were still getting millions each week to feature a different product in addition to a show. They were, in essence, doing twice the work for half the pay. They began to realize this fact, and in mid-November, decided to strike.

The resolution seemed simple: the networks should pay its writers for "new media" -- TV shows that were re-broadcast on the internet. However, the networks declared that the internet was "too new", and that they had no idea or basis for which to pay their writers because it had never been done before.

But wait -- too new? Then why, in March of 2007, did media giant Viacom sue YouTube over the use of its material to the tune of over one billion dollars? It seems that there was, indeed, a price for TV shows on the internet -- numbering in the millions. Why could Viacom expect a site like YouTube to give them a billion dollars, but couldn't be bothered to give the writers on shows like the Colbert Report or The Daily Show a few extra bucks everytime someone watches something they worked so hard on? It hardly seemed fair.

So far, negotiations haven't produced anything resembling a resolution. The networks are simply unwilling to delve into their deep, deep pockets to pay the people who work for them. The choice to strike was admirable, and will probably end up in some sort of compromise, but what about what happens as a result? Most of the crews that support the shows have been laid off, because they haven't worked for weeks. Seeing as it's pilot-production season, no writers mean no new pilots. No new pilots mean more reality shows are getting the green light than they would have without the strike. More reality shows may mean less room for existing shows, and the possibility that when the strike does end, the writers may not even have jobs to go back to.

Hopefully, this whole thing will end up with everyone happy, and the writers will get what they want and need. They are the reason for the networks' success, and deservedly so.

Har Dee Har Har, Old Man

I don't know what my deal is lately; the only things I seem to set time aside for are school, and partying. Apparently, partying parlays into blogging, which is buffered by my drunkeness. Awesome.














I've been listening to the same Daft Punk songs over and over for the past few days -- their MySpace has the most amazing live version of Too Long.


Oh, actually, that leads me to my next topic -- http://www.snap.fm . Interestingly enough, a friend of a friend started a really cool music news website, kind of comparable to Digg.com or Elbo.ws -- you submit music-related articles and people rate whether they like them or find them relevant. Basically, you can find up-to-date news on your favorite artists just by doing a search. I've been asked to write for the blog section of the website, which is great. I basically have ultimate freedom to write about whatever I want (and whatever I want is most likely going to be music). The posts I write for Snap will most likely be more structured, and less stream-of-consciousness like Good Bloggie, but I figure in order not to neglect my baby, I'll post them on here too.

I know that most of you share the same affinity for trash TV as me; either that or you've been around a TV when "A Shot at Love with Tila Tequila" is on. I found a news article the other day about the casting for the sequel to "A Shot at Love" -- nope, no surprise bisexual twists in this one; it's going to feature Dominico, the speedo-wearing Italian. Seriously. Okay, I found it hilarious when he would talk about his junk like it was a living, breathing little man... needless to say, I'll be tuning in. Guh, I'm a sucker. But! The news item that just came about today was about Miss Tequila herself; apparently people are saying that she is not, in fact, bisexual, and that the whole show was just a gimmick. According to Page Six (which, although snarky and bitchy as shit, is usually pretty reliable), Tila has had a long-time boyfriend, who she wouldn't even leave during the filming of the show -- poor, poor Amanda and Dannie -- they never stood a chance. I guess neither did I, when I fell for that shit.

This video is just... awesome. I love when people use kids in their videos and make them do things they won't understand for a few more years:



Oh, also, Britney Spears is apparently pregnant. Again. Yes, our little Brit Brit (ALLEGEDLY) got knocked up by producer J.R. Rotem. How did the public find out? Oh, duh, via Blackberry.

Judicial system got you down? Taking away your kids, giving them to K Fed? The solution is simple, see? Just have more!!!

Ashlee Simpson has a new single (and, I assume, a new CD soon) out, and it was produced by Timbaland. Hrmph. I have an affinity for most things good ole Timbo does, and I really want to give her a chance -- Nelly Furtado went from a free-love folk singer to a bonafide badonkadonk-shakin' pop princess in the course of like, a year. I'm too lazy to post a link, because it's almost 3 a.m. (god damnit, I'm a loser), but it was on the AOL music page earlier, so check it if you must. I'm sure you'll hear it sooner or later.

Like I said, it's mighty late, so I'm going to head for bed. Good nighty!