Sunday, July 17, 2011

Paul McCartney at Yankee Stadium; Setlist and Video for 7/16/11

So I haven't posted in approximately forever, but you'll get over it. As I sometimes do, I am throwing up the setlist for another concert before I go to bed. Tonight's show was fantastic and I may blog about it later, but for now, here's what was played:

JULY 16, 2011

Magical Mystery Tour
All My Loving
Junior's Farm
Drive My Car
Sing The Changes
The Night Before
Let Me Roll It (w/"Foxey Lady" coda, written by Jimi Hendrix)
Paperback Writer
The Long and Winding Road
Let 'Em In
Maybe I'm Amazed
I'm Looking Through You
I Will
Here Today
Dance Tonight
Mrs. Vanderbilt
Eleanor Rigby
Something (written by George Harrison)
Band On The Run
Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da
Back in the U.S.S.R.
I've Got A Feeling
A Day In The Life w/Give Peace a Chance
Let It Be
Live and Let Die
Hey Jude

Encore I:
Lady Madonna
I Saw Her Standing There (featuring Billy Joel)
Get Back

Encore II:
Helter Skelter
Golden Slumbers
Carry That Weight
The End

All songs composed by John Lennon & Paul McCartney, Paul McCartney, or Paul & Linda McCartney, except "Sing the Changes" (McCartney/Youth), "Give Peace a Chance" (John Lennon), and where noted.

These aren't my seats (I wish) but here's some HD video:
Video shared by YouTube user BillyJoelVideos.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

...But Instead, We Get Skins

Everyone loves Twitter (except me, I suppose).  Everyone loves music videos.  Everyone loves trivia.  If all of this is true, then why hasn't Pop-Up Video made a comeback yet?

Where are you?

Monday, March 14, 2011

An Open Letter to the Dude Sitting in Front of Me at the Cafe

Dude!  Wake up!!  Ahhh.  You're bombing so hard.  If this is a first date, you're on strike #7 (note: not the "bowling" kind).  I want to boo you.  She's gorgeous.  Stop talking so much about yourself.  Ask her about her!

Photo unrelated.
What does she like doing?  How was her day?  What is her family doing now?  How is Uncle Herbert, that crazy guy?  If she could quit her job right now and run off somewhere, where would she go and what would she do?  If she could be a breakfast cereal, what breakfast cereal would she be (and why)?  Ask her about her favorite train.  Comment on the people outside the window and ask her where she thinks they are headed in such a hurry.  Ask her about her "Welcome to New York" moment.  She's got Amanda Seyfried eyes and all you can talk about is your dopey friend's last semester?  Gah.

If this were a LiveJournal, my song of the day would be "You're Gonna Lose That Girl" and my current mood would be "wicked frustrated".

Thursday, March 10, 2011

Ending Sentences With Prepositions is Seriously Uncalled For

Really, what's that about? It's a hard habit to get out of. Even worse: sometimes you meet someone who is finely attuned to this grammatical conversational error and--in case you couldn't guess--they are very difficult people to have a conversation with.

And don't even get me started when it comes to sentences that begin with conjunctions.

Wednesday, March 9, 2011

An Ode to the Abandoned Tuxedo Pants I Found on the Sidewalk Today

Upon the occasion of discovering a pair of black tuxedo pants lying on the side of the road:

O Tuxedo Pants, quickly cast astrewn
Why hath thy master forsaken ye here?
A leg on the sidewalk, th'other the street--
Languished luxury lying listlessly.
A grievous offense could'st I not conceive
As fair cause for thy careless discarding
(If indeed such a sin slacks could commit).
Didst thou meet the pavement from an ill fit--
Too few or too many doughnuts consumed?
Didst thy get the toss in (dare I speak it)
A frightful and furious fit of lust?
Encounter with a lady of the night?
Sudden necessity to disrobe quick?
Swelt'ring heat promoting thy removal?
Truly? Pants on the ground. Pants on the ground.
Forgotten adjustable-waist trousers,
Smold'ring in the heat of the sunlit day,
Embrace thy strange rest; thou shalt strut no more--
'Less a de-pantsed gentlemen find thee here,
Praise his fortuitous turn, and get dressed.

Plants and Birds and Rocks and Things

One of my aunt's favorite stories comes from driving around with me in the front seat listening to the radio.  I was much younger then--probably about seven.  America's song "A Horse With No Name" was on the radio and we were talking about the lyrics.  After hearing the chorus, I asked her (with the utmost sincerity) why they didn't just give the horse a name.  She laughed and repeated the story to the rest of our family, who found my query equally comical.  The thing is, she still thinks that this is really, really funny for some reason.  Meanwhile, I'm still don't see why what I said was humorous, and I still don't understand why they didn't just give the horse a name and be done with it already.

What am I missing here?

Saturday, March 5, 2011

Adventures in Education, Chapter 21

First week on the job
Gr.6 tutor/substitute teacher

What I've attempted to teach:
Compare and Contrast
Author's purpose
Place values
Potential and Kinectic Energy
Commutative and Associative Properties
Separating fact from opinion

What I've been asked to clarify:
What happened to your lip?
What's a cleft lip?
Did it hurt?
Does it hurt now?
How many surgeries did you have?
Do you remember?
Wait, can you grow a mustache?
Would that hurt?
Do people ask you about it a lot?

Open Notes to Persons in and around a Park Slope Coffee Shop

Preface: This is the third installment in my Open Notes series, where I talk to people around me but on my blog because I lack the guts/interest/pickup lines necessary to actually converse with other people.

"Art of Unknown Origin Stolen for Blog"; Anonymous, Oil on Canvas, 1997
This evening, after a particularly erratic day of substitute teaching in Manhattan, I returned to lovely Brooklyn and strolled over to a distinctive coffee joint in the quaint yet eminently mockable neighborhood of Park Slope.  People here are known for being liberal, wealthy(ish), and trendy, and most residents struggle to hide their often overwhelming whiteness.  My neighborhood is no slouch, but this part of town is most certainly out of my price bracket.  Thus, while it may be a perfectly pleasant place to reside, it's easier and more self-assuring to ruthlessly rend it asunder with smug keystrokes while chuckling about how intellectually superior and more worldly I am.

To my roommate: Spot me a few bucks?  Cool.

To the chipper barista girl: You're adorable, but I really do think that your hat falls under the "trying too hard" category.  It probably looked stylish on the wooden rack at the second-hand store next to the other second-hand store where that better second-hand store used to be, but you don't need a hat indoors.  However, I have a long history of falling for waitresses and female bar staff, so I'm going to let it slide.

To Customer #7: Whoever told you that beard looked good was lying through their java-stained teeth.  When you trim the edges every morning for that perfectly symmetrical look, do you use a ruler?  A protractor, maybe?  Also, this morning routine must give you ample time to consider your beard at length.  Apparently, you still think it's worth it.

To the freeloading suit who walked in, sat down, went to work on his laptop, and didn't buy anything:  Don't worry about it. Wi-fi should be free. Hey, I'm sure you voted for universal public health care, too.

To literally four other customers who have entered since I started:  Please explain to me the appeal of offbeat hats and poor facial hair decisions.  Please.  I'm so lost.

To Customer #15:  You are cute.  Please look at me again now that I'm sitting up straight.

To Customer #15's boyfriend:  I will fight you right in the face.

To Rota Fortunae:  Why do girls go out with clowns like him?  What is it?  I see more girls hanging off the shoulder of slouchy, half-awake, vacant looking dudes who kind of just stand there consuming oxygen.  What are you contributing to the relationship, guy?  You look like the kind of person who hopes McDonald's makes home deliveries.  It's very perplexing.

To Wikipedia:  Whoa. "Rota Fortunae"?  Thanks, Wikipedia! I sound so cultured and smart.

To the insufferable mouthpiece behind me:  Keep talking.  I find it fascinating that you could "know" so much about so many things and yet state everything in the simplest terms possible. Call me crazy, but does it occur to you that most political issues and social science-related events are just a little bit more on the complex side? Listening to you explain it all--with scoffs to spare--is nauseating.  The groans!  The sighs!  If eye rolling made a sound, I'm pretty sure that I just heard it.  Were you planning on giving a chance to either of the ladies accompanying you?  They may want to speak at some point.  I know that you think that you're intelligent and sophisticated and miles ahead of the other lemmings you are forced to associate with, but there's a reason that some individuals become famous talk show hosts or essay writers while others sit in coffee shops pontificating.  You suck.

To the girl blogging two tables away: I have no idea what you're writing about, but I will preemptively propose a truce.

To whoever wrote this "How to Piss Off a Park Slope Resident" viral blog post:  Good show!

To the bro who almost walked in with his acoustic guitar:  No! Get out!! NO ONE LIKES YOU!! WHATEVER ARTIST YOU ASPIRE TO BE LIKE SUCKS, TOO!  Sorry about the caps.  Typed too hard again.

To management: Please play something other than Adele.  It's been like an hour and forty five minutes.  C'mon.

To the Mac user next to me:  You have literally nine applications running and you're flipping through them seamlessly; meanwhile, I attempted to open iTunes and my laptop reacted like I jammed a butter knife into the USB port.  This is stupid.  PCs are stupid.  Any computer I ever buy is stupid.

To my snarkier readers:  Not stupid by association.  Just stupid.

To the lower-middle-class, blue-collar local making a modest wage who came in and ordered a... nah, just kidding. He's not allowed to live here.

To the cafe business at large:  Why is decaf iced coffee impossible to find?  No one has it and I don't understand that.  If I wanted a decaf hot coffee, I would have made it at home. Decaf iced coffee isn't even hard to stock--just double brew a pot and refrigerate it.  It stays good for days!  There's no excuse, service industry.  Step it up.

Friday, February 11, 2011

Hey, How About A Real Post Already?


Continuing a theme of posting other people's stuff, this was my pick for most underrated Super Bowl commercial.  The attention to detail (which shows took place where, and which characters would root for them) is phenomenal, and whoever worked on the CGI deserves a raise.  For most of the clips, you can't even tell that the apparel was added in (except I believe the Seinfeld and Newman scene actually happened).

Very well done. However, the NFL will still be the No Fun League until creative touchdown celebrations like Maurice Jones-Drew's "ATM Withdrawal" and Wes Welker's "Snow Angel" aren't fined anymore.  The decision to fine a player should be determined by a one man panel of Shannon Sharpe, and should be strictly based on whether or not the celebration was funny.  I feel strongly about this.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

At Least It Wasn't "Ebony and Ivory"...

I don't watch the show, but I'm stunned that "Glee" could take "Silly Love Songs" to the top of the charts in 2011.  What a strange world we live in.

Friday, February 4, 2011

The Awkward Strikes Back

Source: The Oatmeal, who or which has a book out soon.

Tuesday, February 1, 2011

Mystery Number

Better question: Why post this ?
Not that I'm proud to admit it, but last Saturday night is a little fuzzy.  Perhaps blogging about how lame I was for the 200th time led me to overdo it, but whatever the cause... let's just say there's some haze.

At any rate, there is a mystery number in my phone, and I don't know who it belongs to or what I would say if I called it.  The area code is from New Jersey.  I suppose I could call it and ask them to spell their name out for my contacts list, but then if her name is Mary Smith, I will feel stupid.  Then again, I feel stupid anyway.  Also, she might not have met the real me.  Also, she might be a dude.

I need a plan.  What if she's the one?

Monday, January 24, 2011

Shameless Joke Theft

Emmy Rossum (from Showtime's Shameless) tells a joke for Esquire magazine.  At the end, she slips in another one real fast, but it's one I feel like I've heard before. Somewhere.

I have attractive readers! Souped.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

Short Hits for The BEST NIGHT EVER

Generally speaking, I only use all caps when I'm being sarcastic. Or if I type really hard.

In this case, it's sarcasm because I live in a tourist destination and I'm staying in watching late night standup on Comedy Central.  No, see all of my friends are busy.  Really.  REALLY!  Sorry, typed too hard.

This seemed like an appropriate time to fire off a post.  The following items could probably be full entries but I don't have the attention span to flesh them out. Here we go.

- Last week I was looking up peer-reviewed research articles in the library (why, yes, ladies... I am single, how did you...?) and typed in the terms "student teaching" and "classroom discourse" for my project.  I click on the most promising article, and the first two categories for this article are, I kid you not, 1) "student teaching", and 2) "social isolation".  Yup.  Sounds about right.

- Just ran to the bodega to buy some root beer (it's how I roll) and paid in spare change (mostly dimes) and realized (not for the first time) that (in addition to using parentheses) I love paying in change.  It really does feel like you got your stuff for free.

- To be a student teacher in NYC, you have to schlep on over to Downtown Brooklyn and get fingerprinted.  This is so they can weed out the weirdo candidates that are criminals or bad finger-painters or lack hands.  After the privilege of having your fingers sqashed onto a scanner, one by one, you then get slammed with a $115 fee.  Yes, a buck fifteen, but sadly not a buck fifteen. $115.  Yet, if I had committed some dumb crime like, say, jaywalking with intent to launder, I would get fingerprinted for free.  Not okay, New York.  Not okay.

- Apropos of nothing, the comedian in the 11:00 timeslot (wow, it's that late already) tried to make a joke about how Mexican girls are always pregnant, and the crowd shut him down.  Really.  Audible boos and groans.  Then he makes a joke about how the audience wants to play "The Real World is Not Real" game, and adds a few more dime-a-dozen stereotypes, and still they don't take the bait with a sympathy laugh.  It was almost inspiring, but then he told a joke about midgets and the audience ate it up.  So much for that.

My whip.
- Next comedian made fun of a Honda Civic.  Maybe he was making fun of himself for not being able to afford one?  I don't get it.  I really like my first car.

- There might be worse feelings than checking your phone on a Friday night and seeing no texts and no missed calls, but I'm not sure what those feelings are.

Check out this Dylan guy.  Real up and comer.

- I enjoy having very specific music tastes and distastes.  For example, I'm generally pretty ambivalent about classical music, but I really, really like Tchaikovsky, and I really don't like Vivaldi at all.  A jazz example: Totally dig hard bop but I can't get into fusion.  I like early Chicago, mid-period Steely Dan, Motown around 1965, and one Pink Floyd song (ten points if you guess which one).  Especially unique--I like Bob Dylan's latest stuff way, way better than his famous stuff (except "Just Like A Woman"--which is awesome).

"Sorry that my carrots are limp."

- There have been so many previews for "No Strings Attached" that I feel like I've seen 30-40 minutes of the film.  It's this year's "Dinner for Schmucks" or "Due Date" in that it is so overexposed already, there can't be anything left in the film worth seeing.  Not that I was going to see it anyway.  This is too bad, because I find Ludacris to be a legitimately funny actor. Or at least a funny dude.

- Great joke that's worth repeating:
Q:  What happens when you play a country song backwards?
A:  He gets his dog back, his truck back, and his girl back.

Wow, I just live-blogged a night on the couch.  So proud.  Goodnight, more popular people.

Sunday, January 9, 2011

An Open Letter to the Middle-Aged, Paunchy Dude Sitting Across from Me at the Library

Come on, man. Even
kids know this stuff.
 Thanks for your ongoing effort to cough all over the keyboard. Don't cover your mouth or anything. I think I'm literally nauseous.

Just know that if I didn't take Vitamin C every day, drink a ridiculous amount of orange juice, and have a public-school-tested immune system, I'd probably throw a can of Lysol at your head.  Bathe thyself, inconsiderate germ distributor, and begone with thee already.