My new friend One World Trade officially became the tallest building in Manhattan today. Even though I don't want it to become a raging steel-and-glass egomaniac (like I'm sure is the case with other "OMG, I"m, like, the tallest in my city" structures), I made sure to acknowledge this feat when I was going home by craning my neck and looking at it before going into the PATH station. As always, my eyes practically bugged out by how enormous it is when you're right underneath it, and I admitted, "Yup, you're definitely taller than me."
May it always be that way.
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Monday, April 30, 2012
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Quote of the Night
"Ooh, maybe we'll catch Cash Cab!" - Copy Freelancer Courtney, dreaming big about our taxi prospects.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
I Promise I'll Go Back to Bitching About Freezing at Friday Games and People Who Hate YA In a Minute, But...
...I saw this on today's re-run and it, uh, kind of spoke to me. Shoulda paid more attention to Pete before I embarked on my chosen profession, I guess...
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
If Only They Had Blogs When I Was Nine...
Remember how I foreshadowed a few posts back that I was going to discuss my re-discovering of the Monkees' music? Well, here it is. You can't say you weren't warned. Heh heh.
So. Let's go back to the beginnings of my record collection. Back to like 1982-84ish. The first album I ever owned was the Smurfs All-Star Show album, followed by the Cabbage Patch Kids Christmas record (80s! Represent!). Not that I went out and bought them with my own money - because I didn't have that when I was seven - but in the Casa Bischer Record Collection, those were the ones that represented the youngest member of the household. I guess because outside of those albums, all I listened to was the radio and whatever records my parents had - it's not like nowadays where there's Kidz Bop and the Wiggles and whatnot cranking out music for purchase every other minute specifically for children's benefit. So whenever my parents got me my Monkees albums (The Monkees, More of the Monkees, and Then & Now, The Best of the Monkees, for those keeping score at home), they were the first "grown up" music I possessed. I happily played the s*** out of them for the two years or so that I was crazy obsessed the group, but then, as I got older and the reruns stopped airing and my interests transferred to that other "kees" love of my life, I didn't really think much about the music anymore.
It's funny because outside of "I'm a Believer," "Last Train to Clarksville" and "Daydream Believer", you don't hear the other songs on the oldies radio stations that often. (And yes, I've been know to listen to oldies music stations, even when I wasn't the target demographic. Sue me - I guess the Monkees were my "gateway drug" to appreciating older music and why I was digging the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel long before it was cool to. So nyah. /overly defensive missive) Yet when I started re-watching the shows recently, it blew me away that I still knew all the words and could even remember the chord progressions to "Pleasant Valley Sunday" (a song which I weirdly appreciated at the age of nine because of the "Rows of houses that are all the same and no one seems to care" part - my 1950-constructed neighborhood comprised entirely of lookalike Cape Cods was just that) and "Take a Giant Step" and "Papa Gene's Blues." And I also realized that it wasn't just past blind childlike adoration that made me like the songs - they're actually pretty damn catchy.
So that's all to say that I decided... "Hey, maybe it's okay to get some of these songs on my iPod," 26 years after liking them originally. And it also made me realize that if I grew up in the 60s when the Monkees were in their heyday, I would've gone crazy defending their musical abiliities in quite A-Rodian Defenditude fashion. Because for anyone to blow them off as a joke/fake/Beatles rip-off or whatever is just completely asinine. First off, let me say that one the arguments of my Monkees Defenditude would be that out of the 10 songs I put on my iPod recently, seven were written by the Monkees themselves, six of those by Mike Nesmith (only child, holla). So I find it mind-boggling that they had to fight so hard to have some creative input into their own albums. When they did get to do their own thing, it came out pretty awesome (and even more appealing, for me — even though this is coming through the lens of a 35-year-old who wasn't alive during their initial run and was therefore not the target demographic in 1967. So maybe my opinion matters little here.)
Anyway. You'll notice one of the albums I didn't have growing up was Headquarters, which was the Monkees' first full-control-of-their-music album they put out. It's the one I've been focusing on recently as most of the songs on the album are "new" to me. Like so:
"You Just May Be the One" is a song that somehow escaped my notice when I was a kid. The weekend after Davy died, however, I was watching a Monkees marathon and it was used in an episode in which Peter's trying to woo a nice girl despite his being shy to the point of incompetance (another reason he was my favorite - who else was going to attempt to light a gal's cigarette with a blowtorch?). I was getting ready for bed and half paying attention when it was on, but the second this two-minute ditty appeared, I was captivated and like, "Why did I never notice this one?" The bridge on it is damn near perfect, probably my most favorite thing right now - and it's all Mike's doing, you guys.
Another underappreciated Mike-written gem is "The Girl I Knew Somewhere," which was on the aforementioned greatest hits record I had when I was a kid. A song that didn't do much for me back then - except for wondering what the hell had this girl done to Micky that his fingers were still burning from the last time. What? - but I now realize is a pretty fantastic example of a good little pop song — with a harpsichord (Peter, for the win). Also, I didn't really quite appreciate the uniqueness of Micky's voice till recently, which this one showcases nicely.
One word: BANJO (Peter again, BTW). Okay, more than one word - this is a great song if you need to walk with a purpose. It's pretty f***ing awesome.
One thing you probably don't think about with the Monkees is harmonies, but if you listen, there's a lot of it throughout their music, and in this stripped-down version of "Sunny Girlfriend," Mike and Micky have at it pretty fantastically.
And speaking of harmonies, here is a song I do remember...but all because at the age of nine I was pissed that it was used in a Christmas episode and they weren't singing about Christmas trees or reindeer and for god's sake they were singing in Spanish, which at that point in my life all I knew was your standard Sesame Street-learned fare of "agua" and "amigo". So, yeah, I was kind of "harrumph" about it. Now? Good lord, it's effing pretty.
Bonus (because this is almost as much about the "video" as the song itself):
Now, "Cuddly Toy" is a song I do vaguely remember from my childhood TV-watching days, but it wasn't until I saw this clip recently that was like, "God, that sounds like a Harry Nilsson song." And sure enough, it is. I like feeling smart like that. It's kind of a, uh, not really kid-friendly song if you look at the lyrics, which is why I think I appreciate it so much now - went right over little KB's head, as it was supposed to. But also, I find this whole sequence so damn charming (Davy is downright darling in this), and that it might've pushed it into "liking" territory for me.
So you survived my Monkees sum-up post. Now that wasn't too painful, was it? (And if it was, hush up, you soulless bastard.)
So. Let's go back to the beginnings of my record collection. Back to like 1982-84ish. The first album I ever owned was the Smurfs All-Star Show album, followed by the Cabbage Patch Kids Christmas record (80s! Represent!). Not that I went out and bought them with my own money - because I didn't have that when I was seven - but in the Casa Bischer Record Collection, those were the ones that represented the youngest member of the household. I guess because outside of those albums, all I listened to was the radio and whatever records my parents had - it's not like nowadays where there's Kidz Bop and the Wiggles and whatnot cranking out music for purchase every other minute specifically for children's benefit. So whenever my parents got me my Monkees albums (The Monkees, More of the Monkees, and Then & Now, The Best of the Monkees, for those keeping score at home), they were the first "grown up" music I possessed. I happily played the s*** out of them for the two years or so that I was crazy obsessed the group, but then, as I got older and the reruns stopped airing and my interests transferred to that other "kees" love of my life, I didn't really think much about the music anymore.
It's funny because outside of "I'm a Believer," "Last Train to Clarksville" and "Daydream Believer", you don't hear the other songs on the oldies radio stations that often. (And yes, I've been know to listen to oldies music stations, even when I wasn't the target demographic. Sue me - I guess the Monkees were my "gateway drug" to appreciating older music and why I was digging the Beatles and Simon & Garfunkel long before it was cool to. So nyah. /overly defensive missive) Yet when I started re-watching the shows recently, it blew me away that I still knew all the words and could even remember the chord progressions to "Pleasant Valley Sunday" (a song which I weirdly appreciated at the age of nine because of the "Rows of houses that are all the same and no one seems to care" part - my 1950-constructed neighborhood comprised entirely of lookalike Cape Cods was just that) and "Take a Giant Step" and "Papa Gene's Blues." And I also realized that it wasn't just past blind childlike adoration that made me like the songs - they're actually pretty damn catchy.
So that's all to say that I decided... "Hey, maybe it's okay to get some of these songs on my iPod," 26 years after liking them originally. And it also made me realize that if I grew up in the 60s when the Monkees were in their heyday, I would've gone crazy defending their musical abiliities in quite A-Rodian Defenditude fashion. Because for anyone to blow them off as a joke/fake/Beatles rip-off or whatever is just completely asinine. First off, let me say that one the arguments of my Monkees Defenditude would be that out of the 10 songs I put on my iPod recently, seven were written by the Monkees themselves, six of those by Mike Nesmith (only child, holla). So I find it mind-boggling that they had to fight so hard to have some creative input into their own albums. When they did get to do their own thing, it came out pretty awesome (and even more appealing, for me — even though this is coming through the lens of a 35-year-old who wasn't alive during their initial run and was therefore not the target demographic in 1967. So maybe my opinion matters little here.)
Anyway. You'll notice one of the albums I didn't have growing up was Headquarters, which was the Monkees' first full-control-of-their-music album they put out. It's the one I've been focusing on recently as most of the songs on the album are "new" to me. Like so:
"You Just May Be the One" is a song that somehow escaped my notice when I was a kid. The weekend after Davy died, however, I was watching a Monkees marathon and it was used in an episode in which Peter's trying to woo a nice girl despite his being shy to the point of incompetance (another reason he was my favorite - who else was going to attempt to light a gal's cigarette with a blowtorch?). I was getting ready for bed and half paying attention when it was on, but the second this two-minute ditty appeared, I was captivated and like, "Why did I never notice this one?" The bridge on it is damn near perfect, probably my most favorite thing right now - and it's all Mike's doing, you guys.
Another underappreciated Mike-written gem is "The Girl I Knew Somewhere," which was on the aforementioned greatest hits record I had when I was a kid. A song that didn't do much for me back then - except for wondering what the hell had this girl done to Micky that his fingers were still burning from the last time. What? - but I now realize is a pretty fantastic example of a good little pop song — with a harpsichord (Peter, for the win). Also, I didn't really quite appreciate the uniqueness of Micky's voice till recently, which this one showcases nicely.
One word: BANJO (Peter again, BTW). Okay, more than one word - this is a great song if you need to walk with a purpose. It's pretty f***ing awesome.
One thing you probably don't think about with the Monkees is harmonies, but if you listen, there's a lot of it throughout their music, and in this stripped-down version of "Sunny Girlfriend," Mike and Micky have at it pretty fantastically.
And speaking of harmonies, here is a song I do remember...but all because at the age of nine I was pissed that it was used in a Christmas episode and they weren't singing about Christmas trees or reindeer and for god's sake they were singing in Spanish, which at that point in my life all I knew was your standard Sesame Street-learned fare of "agua" and "amigo". So, yeah, I was kind of "harrumph" about it. Now? Good lord, it's effing pretty.
Bonus (because this is almost as much about the "video" as the song itself):
Now, "Cuddly Toy" is a song I do vaguely remember from my childhood TV-watching days, but it wasn't until I saw this clip recently that was like, "God, that sounds like a Harry Nilsson song." And sure enough, it is. I like feeling smart like that. It's kind of a, uh, not really kid-friendly song if you look at the lyrics, which is why I think I appreciate it so much now - went right over little KB's head, as it was supposed to. But also, I find this whole sequence so damn charming (Davy is downright darling in this), and that it might've pushed it into "liking" territory for me.
So you survived my Monkees sum-up post. Now that wasn't too painful, was it? (And if it was, hush up, you soulless bastard.)
Sunday, April 22, 2012
Perfect, for a Completely Different Reason
Want to hear something crazy? Whenever I clean my living room, the Yankees stage a comeback. I was doing so today, readying for my pre-birthday Bad Movie Night, when they were losing 9-0, and as soon as Fox cut away to Humber's perfect game bid (which I totally didn't mind at that point - history always trumps shelackings), I was like, "Watch, something big will happen." And when they cut back to the Yankees and it was 9-5 and they announced Swisher had hit a grand slam, I was like "This is gonna get good." Maybe it's some kind of cusp-of-35 psychic wisdom that is just hitting me now, or maybe it was a "no expectations means no pressure" sort of moment, but damn if I didn't squeal and clap delightedly when Thumper homered to make it 9-8. And then Swisher with the tying and go-head runs? Well, this made me smile so hard:
And then you get the following text message (not a Thumper homer, but an SMS, in this case) and it's even more delightful:
And then Erica, in Arizona to hang with the Braves and D'Backs, sends the following....
...which refers to the time in 2006 when Erica and I discovered our stud finder could summon the Yankees luck, and thereby reminded me of this game - the last 9-0 comeback the Yanks had.
I don't know how the rest of the season will pan out, but I do know that that was one of the most fun games I've watched on TV in a long time.
And dudes, it was a FOX GAME.
And then you get the following text message (not a Thumper homer, but an SMS, in this case) and it's even more delightful:
And then Erica, in Arizona to hang with the Braves and D'Backs, sends the following....
...which refers to the time in 2006 when Erica and I discovered our stud finder could summon the Yankees luck, and thereby reminded me of this game - the last 9-0 comeback the Yanks had.
I don't know how the rest of the season will pan out, but I do know that that was one of the most fun games I've watched on TV in a long time.
And dudes, it was a FOX GAME.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
And I Loooove Youuuuuuu
In honor of Curtis Granderson - whose home runs I didn't see because I was stuck at work (but I was glad of heart to be kept in the loop via Erica's Tweets). If you are imagining me scowling, you are correct - I give you this special long-distance dedication: The Commodores' classic, "Three Times a Lady Grandy."
My musical soul mates Tonya and Steph will appreciate this - of this I am sure. But not as much as I appreciate the Grandy Man for being the difference in the game, y'all.
My musical soul mates Tonya and Steph will appreciate this - of this I am sure. But not as much as I appreciate the Grandy Man for being the difference in the game, y'all.
Sunday, April 15, 2012
Quote of the Night
"Next it'll be Max." - Rachel, dead serious, after she, Adena, Former Production Gal Aimee and I (with first-timer Rana) all at once discovered the total hotness of Captain Von Trapp while watching the Sound of Music for like the 819th time, and realizing it probably had to do with our increase in age. At once awesome and depressing.
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
2009 Seems So Very, Very Long Ago...
I'm pretty sure this might be the most top-to-bottom talented Top 7 I've ever seen on American Idol. Everyone sings incredibly well, some with voices beyond their years. Usually, there's a total WTF-er in there at this point still, but not this season. It's kind of crazy.
That said, I find myself utterly bored by it and its paint-by-numbersness. The talent is there, but the intensity is not, and there's a certain lack of joy that's been apparent in certain performers of seasons past. I have yet to connect with any of the contestants or feel them connect to what they're singing (Skylar and Phillip, who, I admit, don't do much for me, do show signs of possibly getting there). It just feels like they're all doing an imitation of what they think an Idol contestant looks like rather than genuinely understanding what they're going out and doing vocal gymnastics/imitations of other artists to (which might have something to do with their general youngness - there's one 28-year-old and six who are 21 and under... which is why a teenager singing longingly about "making love" to someone is going to squick me out slightly). And like I said a few weeks ago, it just feels like there's a heavy dose of producer manipulation all over this season (We want you to believe Skylar and Colton are in love! Even when they're like "Um, no"! Joshua deserves a standing ovation every time he sings! Hollie deserves to be shat upon every time she sings!). I want to believe in these guys, but I just can't, unless they can prove to me that they are their own person/performer and understand what they're singing and get a little damn creative (without the help of the producers)... and it's not an act. Is that too much to ask?
Bah. Basically, it all just makes me miss this guy a whole lot:
This is a new song off his upcoming album. Go buy it.
That said, I find myself utterly bored by it and its paint-by-numbersness. The talent is there, but the intensity is not, and there's a certain lack of joy that's been apparent in certain performers of seasons past. I have yet to connect with any of the contestants or feel them connect to what they're singing (Skylar and Phillip, who, I admit, don't do much for me, do show signs of possibly getting there). It just feels like they're all doing an imitation of what they think an Idol contestant looks like rather than genuinely understanding what they're going out and doing vocal gymnastics/imitations of other artists to (which might have something to do with their general youngness - there's one 28-year-old and six who are 21 and under... which is why a teenager singing longingly about "making love" to someone is going to squick me out slightly). And like I said a few weeks ago, it just feels like there's a heavy dose of producer manipulation all over this season (We want you to believe Skylar and Colton are in love! Even when they're like "Um, no"! Joshua deserves a standing ovation every time he sings! Hollie deserves to be shat upon every time she sings!). I want to believe in these guys, but I just can't, unless they can prove to me that they are their own person/performer and understand what they're singing and get a little damn creative (without the help of the producers)... and it's not an act. Is that too much to ask?
Bah. Basically, it all just makes me miss this guy a whole lot:
This is a new song off his upcoming album. Go buy it.
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
It Must Have Something to Do With the Whole "kees" Thing
So, I had a feeling what was holding the Yankees back this weekend wasn't their abilities, but rather the whole of Tampa sucking the life out of them the last month and a half and thus the team still thinking they're in some kind of extended spring training prison when really, hello, it's April. Like, I knew they'd win once they got a change of scenery. A line popped into my head from a Monkees episode I watched a few weeks ago (I've been re-watching thanks to Antenna TV, the best thing WPIX has done since employing Phil Rizzuto and airing The Magic Garden and Little House on the Prairie reruns for my entire childhood): "First we'll escape, then we'll play baseball."
This evening pretty much proved me right, and I just wanted to put that out there. And also gave me the perfect excuse to post one of the best Monkee "romps," in which the line I just quoted is uttered and they fake a baseball game in a jail cell in a ghost town and Mike somehow ends up delighted to be in Dodger Stadium after digging out, but not really because it's all in their imaginations or something. (Yes, I've discovered I seriously still love the hell out of this show. Just wait till I do a post about rediscovering their music. Oh yes. You've been warned.)
Also — and, yes, I've thought about this — if I had to recast the Monkees with Yankees, Swish is totally Micky, Jeter is Davy, Robertson is Peter and... I don't know who'd be Mike now, because no one's serious enough, but Posada would've fit that bill awesomely. Alas.
Not that any of you understand/appreciate any of this, since a Venn Diagram of friends who like the Yankees AND the Monkees is pretty much nonexistent (except maybe my dad), but I had to put it out there. So I did. So there.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Bruce. Boo-Yah.
You know what's awesome? Seeing someone who so loves what they do. I honestly don't know if there's anyone I can personally say this about, but after attending my fourth Bruce Springsteen concert last night, I can say that Bruce himself seems to enjoy the s*** out of his chosen profession. Oh, sure, you can be cynical about it and say all the money he rakes in probably makes it that much easier to like his job, but even if that's the case, the dude makes sure he puts on a show - and makes it look like he's having the best effing time possible while doing so. Dude runs around on stage for three hours, slides around on his knees with a little kid, carries said little kid around, then stage dives and crowd surfs, and basically makes you, almost 30 years younger, feel really out of shape while watching him.
Sure, I may be biased. My first musical memory is Born to Run spinning on our record player and I can essentially associate any Bruce song of any era with whatever was going on in my life at the time. I've grown up with him, so to speak. But to see the utter delight on his face when he stops singing the opening of "Thunder Road," and lets the giant-ass crowd sing it instead, it's quite awesome, no matter how many albums the guy's put out.
Also - and let me get a little cheesy right here - the moment itself was pretty damn near perfect. You've got an entire stadium full of people singing a song that has obviously meant so much to them (myself included. Like, it's almost eight years later, but it's still my No. 1 favorite song), and in that moment - and let me get a lot more cheesy right here - you get the full meaning of "Jersey Pride." Now, let me tell you, I kind of hate that term because it's been so co-opted by people/manufacturers who use it for evil rather than good. Like, I hear that and I think "Obnoxious Guido Stereotype Used to Perpetuate Bad Ideas About My Home State." But whilst singing with tens of thousands of others, most of whom are probably from your Garden State, who know what a dusty beach road looks like, and singing it because the guy who wrote the song, also a Jerseyian, is standing right there, looking so delighted... well, I had goosebumps. And yes, in that moment, I was righteously proud of the Jerz. So there.
Yes, I was way up in the hinterlands of the 24th row to the left of the stage, and yes, I arm-thrusted to the "Roll down the windows and let the wind blow back your hair." Because it is in my DNA to do so. And also, because I wanted to.
Sure, I may be biased. My first musical memory is Born to Run spinning on our record player and I can essentially associate any Bruce song of any era with whatever was going on in my life at the time. I've grown up with him, so to speak. But to see the utter delight on his face when he stops singing the opening of "Thunder Road," and lets the giant-ass crowd sing it instead, it's quite awesome, no matter how many albums the guy's put out.
Also - and let me get a little cheesy right here - the moment itself was pretty damn near perfect. You've got an entire stadium full of people singing a song that has obviously meant so much to them (myself included. Like, it's almost eight years later, but it's still my No. 1 favorite song), and in that moment - and let me get a lot more cheesy right here - you get the full meaning of "Jersey Pride." Now, let me tell you, I kind of hate that term because it's been so co-opted by people/manufacturers who use it for evil rather than good. Like, I hear that and I think "Obnoxious Guido Stereotype Used to Perpetuate Bad Ideas About My Home State." But whilst singing with tens of thousands of others, most of whom are probably from your Garden State, who know what a dusty beach road looks like, and singing it because the guy who wrote the song, also a Jerseyian, is standing right there, looking so delighted... well, I had goosebumps. And yes, in that moment, I was righteously proud of the Jerz. So there.
Yes, I was way up in the hinterlands of the 24th row to the left of the stage, and yes, I arm-thrusted to the "Roll down the windows and let the wind blow back your hair." Because it is in my DNA to do so. And also, because I wanted to.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Books: The Ultimate Spoiler
Bold statement: I pretty much never like movies that are based on books as much as I liked the books themselves. There is something so satisfying about being completely engrossed in a book that the feeling rarely translates when you see it on the big screen. I'm not saying this makes the movies bad, by any stretch - I mean, Revolutionary Road was nominated for an Oscar for crying out loud. But the book version? Man, it may be one of the best pieces of writing I've ever read. The Harry Potter movies? Are fine and entertaining and pretty much faithful to the books, but I consider reading the books a far, far, FAR more delightful experience. Even when I felt the need to read Deathly Hallows in one weekend, for fear of hearing spoilers, and almost made myself blind as a result.
Most of this stems from the fact that the act of reading and the act of watching are two totally different things, but there's also the whole "I didn't picture this character looking like that" or "Oh, they left out that awesome part there" disappointment factor. And this isn't even mentioning books you loved that became absolutely not-so-good movies (Where the Heart Is - I'm looking at you). So, yeah, I'm honestly not sure I've ever seen a movie that was as good as the book, if I'd read the book first. EVER.
So this is why I have no intention of reading Game of Thrones. You're like "What the what now?" after just reading those last two paragraphs, right? Hear me out: I watched the whole first season around Christmas and enjoyed it greatly. So much so that I was tempted to go out and buy the books just to see what happens next. But then I realized from here on in I'd only be watching the show to see how stuff in the book is portrayed, and worse, I'd know what's going to happen and that element of surprise is taken away. I hate spoilers for TV shows, to the point that I sometimes don't watch the "next time on this show" previews (although, I will say, I love Mad Men for keeping theirs so vague. I've never been able to guess a plotline from watching those). And as much as I love that engrossing experience of reading, being genuinely shocked/delighted by something I see on TV isn't exactly a common occurrence (unless we're talking Breaking Bad, which gives you whiplash sometimes from plot twists you didn't see coming). So for this one show, I intend to keep it that way, as much as I know that at the end of this new season, I'm going to have to physically restrain myself from reading the books just to see what happens next. (Like, good god, I hope Arya makes it far. And no, that's not a prompt for you to tell me if she does. Surprises, people. Good or bad.)
I'm Team Books otherwise, but if this gets my Book Nerd card revoked, then I guess I'll just have to deal with that. In the meantime, I'm going to make sure I have some popcorn and M&M's on hand for what may be the single best night of TV of the year in my apartment: Game of Thrones premiere, Shameless season finale and Mad Men. Honest to god, I cannot remember the last time I've loved so many TV shows, let alone having three air in one night. Imagine if it were already baseball season!
Most of this stems from the fact that the act of reading and the act of watching are two totally different things, but there's also the whole "I didn't picture this character looking like that" or "Oh, they left out that awesome part there" disappointment factor. And this isn't even mentioning books you loved that became absolutely not-so-good movies (Where the Heart Is - I'm looking at you). So, yeah, I'm honestly not sure I've ever seen a movie that was as good as the book, if I'd read the book first. EVER.
So this is why I have no intention of reading Game of Thrones. You're like "What the what now?" after just reading those last two paragraphs, right? Hear me out: I watched the whole first season around Christmas and enjoyed it greatly. So much so that I was tempted to go out and buy the books just to see what happens next. But then I realized from here on in I'd only be watching the show to see how stuff in the book is portrayed, and worse, I'd know what's going to happen and that element of surprise is taken away. I hate spoilers for TV shows, to the point that I sometimes don't watch the "next time on this show" previews (although, I will say, I love Mad Men for keeping theirs so vague. I've never been able to guess a plotline from watching those). And as much as I love that engrossing experience of reading, being genuinely shocked/delighted by something I see on TV isn't exactly a common occurrence (unless we're talking Breaking Bad, which gives you whiplash sometimes from plot twists you didn't see coming). So for this one show, I intend to keep it that way, as much as I know that at the end of this new season, I'm going to have to physically restrain myself from reading the books just to see what happens next. (Like, good god, I hope Arya makes it far. And no, that's not a prompt for you to tell me if she does. Surprises, people. Good or bad.)
I'm Team Books otherwise, but if this gets my Book Nerd card revoked, then I guess I'll just have to deal with that. In the meantime, I'm going to make sure I have some popcorn and M&M's on hand for what may be the single best night of TV of the year in my apartment: Game of Thrones premiere, Shameless season finale and Mad Men. Honest to god, I cannot remember the last time I've loved so many TV shows, let alone having three air in one night. Imagine if it were already baseball season!
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