Antenna

I had no plans last night (no plans! no plans!!! yippee!!!) so went home, worked on music project du jour for a few hours, and then thought "Huh, I should probably eat something."

While microwaving some macaroni and cheese, I remembered "Wait! I have an antenna! I should watch... TV! This will be a perfect activity for my non-functioning brain post blitz on music project du jour!"

I watched a bit of The Gilmore Girls (I heart Luke) and when it ended, tried to decide if I wanted to continue the mind-numbing TV exercise or read The New Yorker, with which I also have a love/hate relationship.

Flipping through the channels, I came across an awards show! The People's Choice Awards! I love awards shows! Well, not really, but they have the potential to entertain. The People's Choice Awards are probably the lowest common denominator (because do "the people" have the best taste? probably not!), although I'm not sure of this as I've never seen them.

I began to watch, and was horrified by the opening number - Jessica Simpson, dressed as a cowgirl, singing "These boots were made for walking... uh... yip... etc." whilst trying not to kill herself as she walked on barstools.

I tried not to scream. I was patient. The host came on - I've never seen this guy before - and was completely unfunny.

After I watched adorable Reese Witherspoon accept her award for "Favorite Leading Lady," I turned away. I thought "I should stop watching... this will be torture."

I was still on the fence, until the announcer said "After the break, we'll announce the winner you've chosen for BEST HAIR!" or something like that. It wasn't even best hair - it was most natural or most luxurious or most satiny hair or something equally ridiculous sponsored by some hair product company.

Needless to say I spent the remainder of the night reading The New Yorker.

Not that The New Yorker is any better.

I have this compulsion to read it because I feel like I should read it. It's the hip thing to do. Everyone's doing it. D subscribes and gives me his copy every week after he's finished reading it. D is so good about reading. He reads everything. He keeps up with every zine, magazine, publication, everything. I don't understand how he has so much time.

I asked him if we could enact this policy as I didn't want to spend the money on a subscription to something I resent for no apparent reason.

Is it because its pretentious? Is it pretentious? Or is reading it pretentious? Or maybe the problem is the cartoons? Some of them are funny, though...

I think the thing that bothers me about it is that the articles are so long. You need an hour to read one article!

This policy has been in effect for about eight months, and in all honesty, I think I've read maybe four issues. I've glanced through a few others.

One of my resolutions that didn't make it onto the blog list was to read The New Yorker every week, or to at least attempt to. I suppose its a companion resolution to being better about read The Voice.

I read most of last week's issue. I read all but two articles of this week's issue last night.

The hilarious thing is that on Sunday night, D and I were reading together (we now set aside time to "read" when we are together since we both want to read more). I declared, frustrated, "Dear god this article on Katrina is eternal!"

D said "Really? You'll have to tell me about it when you finish it."

"What?"

"You'll have to tell me about it when you finish it."

"Wait. What?"

"What?"

"You didn't read it?"

"No."

"Did you read any of the other articles?"

"No."

"Do you ever read the articles?"

"Sometimes. It depends."

Hah.

Now I don't feel so bad.

I guess you don't have to read The New Yorker to be a true New Yorker.