Wednesday

I had a dream last night in which I got my hair dyed pink. It was adorable. It matched my coat. I was very cute and very Gwen. I am wondering if you can bleach your hair, then dye it black twice, then bleach it again and then dye it pink without your hair falling out.

Last night Roommate and I went to see Modest Mouse at Radio City Music Hall.

Roommate said "It's weird that Modest Mouse is at Radio City Music Hall."

I said "It is weird that we are at Radio City Music Hall." Because it was. It was very festive and holiday-ish and bizarre and NY. Roommate said that she once saw the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular Whatever and was mortified first by a nativity scene and then by a wise man in said nativity scene whose robe was decorated with the American flag. Sadly we didn't see any rockettes or reindeer or Jesuses or anything.

My review: crisp. Amazing live band. Elegantly and perfectly executed. Totally wrong venu, though, and the new album must be really bad. I only recognized two songs (which were old and therefore good) and the rest I was either lukewarm about or hated. Roommate said "Man, I know they have a lot of mellow shit, but I really wish they rocked more" whereas I was thinking "Man, I know they have a lot of rock shit, but I wish they played more of the moody and chill stuff." Which suggests to me that the new album is an intermediate and therefore inferior hybrid of old stuff. The lead singer - I think his name is Isaac? - was a spazz, though, and the definition of rock star.

Also.

I must be at that age where I get annoyed with people very easily. When R and I went to see Aimee Mann, there was this weird phenomenon at the show - people making out. Now, people making out at a show isn't weird unto itself - but at Aimee Mann? That music makes you want to slit your wrists, be introverted, sad, alone, etc. Not make out. It is not make out music.

Last night, there was a makeout session going on in front of us between two people who had to have been from New Jersey. They were not from New York. No way. The girl had atrocious hair and really big glasses and no sense of style. The dude had a mullet and too-tight jeans. When they weren't making out, the boyfriend was tapping the girl's ass to the beat. And not light tapping - like slapping her ass. Roommate claims that at one point the chick yelled "You are so coooool!" to the band. It would have been entertaining to make fun of them if this hadn't been constant, but an hour plus of this is unbearable.

Also at the show were many dizzy bitches who were dancing frenetically for no good reason. Hippies. Yeah.

And also at the show were many pompous music dicks, such as the dude behind me who was saying things like "Isaac's placement on the stage is always so interesting - see - he tends to position himself on the right which suggests blah blah fru fru shi shi wah wah..." Ugh.

One other thing: this past Friday I went for a drink with a friend. During the conversation, he said "I'm really excited about the villian in our next movie... he's blah blah blah." I immediately interrupted him and said "Did you just say 'villain?'" I don't know what it was that struck me about the word villain - I guess its that its a fabulous and loaded word that you don't get to use in every day conversation, unless, of course, you are my friend and you have the sort of job that involves "villians." (Me = JEALOUS)

I want to use the word "villain" now, so here you go:

SuperVillain of the Week = THE INTERNET

Damn you, Al Gore, for creating this internet!!!

The internet has really left us all quite vulnerable to slipping into psychotic behavior really easily. Within the last week, three people (myself included) have become aware of certain information we were not meant to know through the internet.

As my fabulous friend R said yesterday "Back in the day, you had to be clever about these things - lipstick on the collar, a found earring - but now?!?! NO! It's all out there!"

And it is. There's no subtlety. There's no questions. We can all be stalkers now and its so damn easy!

In my case, I wasn't stalking. It was a total mistake. Totally blindsided.

The other cases involved stalking. As in "He's been online for hours and he's ignoring my emails!" or "You will not BELIEVE what he posted on MySpace!" or "I am going to fucking KILL MY EX. The internet is EVIL!" or "Why is he online? What is he doing?!"

Back in the day you went out with a guy and then you talked on the phone a few days later. Or maybe the next day. I don't know. I suck at dating. But now, its like you go on a date and then you ask yourself "Are they still dating? What is the status of their profile? When was the last time they were online? Why are they online? What are they doing!??!?! Are they still other profiles?" Angst, psychotic behavior, stalking.

People are driving themselves crazy.

Or, as another friend pointed out, internet dating is like alcoholism. As soon as things get bad with life or the relationship you're in, you post your profile (or, to carry on the analogy, hit the bottle, off the wagon, etc.) or email someone to make yourself feel better. And then all hell breaks loose, because your ex sees you, or your current significant other sees you, or whatever else.

Nonsense.

It was so much easier when we didn't have the ability to see what people were doing every second of the day.

Then again, some of us just blatantly expose ourselves every second of the day by having a blog, which is fine. ;)