Complete and Total Bisch

Safe at Home

2012-02-13T23:02:00.000-05:00

The Yankee Chicken asks you to please excuse him this week, as he barricades himself away from the threat of JWoww and Snooki in his hometown. Still, the countdown must go on...

Don't You Wanna Dance, Say You Wanna Dance, Don't You Wanna Dance? (DANCE)

2012-02-11T23:41:00.000-05:00

I have a distinct memory of eating my breakfast one weekday spring morning in 1987. The stereo was on, as it was every morning when I got ready for school, and I remember sitting at the kitchen table as the DJ on the local radio station announced he was going to play for the first time a brand-new Whitney Houston song. It was "I Wanna Dance With Somebody" and I remember really digging it at the age of 10, and also feeling really cool at just having listened to her song played for the first time ever - on the NJ station, anyway. It went on to be one of the most played songs that summer, to the point that I remember my friends and I at the beach making our Barbies dance to it.

Whitney wasn't my favorite artist of the 80s/early 90s, per se, and I don't feel as tied to her stuff as I did with Michael Jackson, but I liked many of her songs, and she was totally an integral part of the soundtrack of my youth (I can't remember a span from my childhood when she didn't have a song on the radio). And in totally random ways:

-- "One Moment in Time," for some bizarre reason, was stuck in my head when I took my road test for my driver's license (I passed - otherwise, I may not have fond memories of the song).

-- My friend Amy playing the I'm Your Baby Tonight cassette over and over, and us laughing at the premise of the song "My Name is Not Susan" and taking the "He fills me up" in "All The Man That I Need" in its most literal sense (Come on, we were 13).

-- Her Star Spangled Banner from the 1991 Super Bowl was one of the first times I felt how tied together this country could be in patriotism, especially after hearing it on the radio so often in the weeks to come. That may sound schmaltzy, but as an 8th grader experiencing my country being at war for the first time in my life, it was really kind of moving.

-- My friend Des and I playing The Bodyguard soundtrack at pub while we were out with her dad and sister one day passing out fliers for his police department, and the bartender rolling his eyes at having to hear "I'm Every Woman".

-- Walking into the Astoria beer garden (before it was cool for young people to go there), and the main indoor bar area being packed with old, grizzled men... and "I Will Always Love You" randomly coming on the jukebox, which cracked my friend Hollis and I up.

I guess her death shouldn't come as surprising given her past, but it is still somewhat surreal. Judging by my Facebook and Twitter feeds tonight, I'd say it's safe to say many of my generation are digesting the news similarly. And regardless of her recent struggles, it's always hard to see an icon from your childhood die so friggin' young.

Oh, and for the record, this one was always my fave. She may have had bigger, more inspirational songs, but, yeah, I still get psyched whenever this comes on. RIP, Whitney:

On the Coming of JWoww and Snooki

2012-02-10T13:10:00.003-05:00

So the news came down from on high this week that I'd be getting some new neighbors: Ms. Jenni "JWoww" Farley and Ms. Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi. Yes, they're taking up residence in The JC for a few weeks to film their Jersey Shore spin-off show. I have two big issues with this, and neither of them have to do with fear of bar fights or an influx of "How YOU doin'" types invading the local watering holes and making my walks around town ridiculous (though, okay, that is a minor fear).

When I tell people where I'm from, I usually say, "Middletown, New Jersey." When they don't get that (or any Kevin Smith references), I say "It's near Red Bank" because the once semi-plain Jane town I grew up near is now all hoity-toity, complete with a Tiffany's, and cityfolk actually go there to walk around with a Starbucks in their hands and a "The suburbs ain't so bad" gleam in their eyes on the weekends. But if somehow they don't know Red Bank, I'll say, "It's near the beach." Because "the beach" has always been a great source of geography, even if people end up thinking you live near Belmar when that's like a half hour away. But I digress. I'm from the Jersey Shore through-and-through, grew up spending almost every summer Saturday at Sandy Hook (lost my second tooth there while eating a buttered hard-roll), went to the Point Pleasant Boardwalk with my cousins and grandparents every summer, grew up learning backroads to avoid the WEBS/BENNIES on weekends. I love visiting my parents for the smell of salt air from the Navesink River, enjoy crabbing off my dad's boat in the Manasquan (with just a dropline and a net – talent, people. I has it) and feel some sense of pride in knowing where Bruce Springsteen used to live and where he lives now. THAT'S the "Jersey Shore" to me.

See. That's where it is. Now you know.

I am also half Sicilian...and somehow don't have a proclivity for wrapping people across the head, having people whacked or calling tomato sauce "gravy" (it's sauce in my house, just to FYI). Add this to the fact that I'm 100 percent from New Jersey and… I do not look or act like anything you see on TV when reality people allegedly share these attributes with me. I try not to think about that too much because it's supposed to be for entertainment purposes, and if you're ignorant enough to believe an ENTIRE STATE behaves/looks a certain way, that's on you, not me. Still, it's exhausting having to stop yourself from rolling your eyes anytime someone assumes you're going to have an "OHMYGAWWWD" accent or be really into techno music. The coming of Jersey Shore kind of amped that up.

I watched the first few episodes, just to be horrified, found bits of it funny, and then quickly got bored with it. Unfortunately, however, my job has kept me in-tune with all their doings, hence why I didn't have to fact check Snooki and JWoww's full names when I typed them earlier. Anyway, When I'd heard Hoboken had refused to allow this spin-off to shoot, I laughed. (Especially at the people who cheered the decision, but derided the killing of Hoboken St Patrick's Day. Because what's really the difference between that kind of debauchery and what goes on on Jersey Shore? Exactly. And I haven't heard of any Jersey Shore housemates throwing beer bottles at firefighters, so there's that.)

But now? They're shooting in my town. Not even just in Jersey City, nay, my neighborhood. Like, six blocks from where I live. So now I have yet another stereotype to live up to "Oh, you live in Jersey City! Do you GTL, LOLZ?" I do fear my eyeballs will get stuck in the back of my head at some point.

Don't get me wrong, it's kind of awesome to see your area on television. I was excited about knowing HGTV's Kitchen Cousins was based out of Jersey City Heights (unless you want to believe it's Hoboken, as the establishing shots seem to want you to think), since it's a home renovation show with little time for "Can you believe those crazy Jersey Italians?!"-style drama. But a Jersey Shore spin-off is going to be way, way, way more watched, which leads me to my biggest concern, outside of tiresome outrageous stereotyping: people realizing Downtown Jersey City exists, is actually kind of nice, and moving here. No, really. It took me years to be able to afford to live on my own in my "cheap" neighborhood on my editor's salary (we don't make a lot of money, despite what you've been conditioned to see in every chick-lit book-turned-movie), and I'm one big rent increase away from being SOL in that department. Making people aware of the city, where landlords are already starting to get a little cray-cray in the rent prices department ($1,900 for a studio may be affordable in Manhattan, but here? When it's a basement? That probably flooded during Hurricane Irene? Ridiculous.) is not going to help me much.

Plus, I like how it's quiet and not really looked at as a "party town." I love Hoboken, I do miss all the amenities it afforded for the five years I lived there, but living around a steady-stream of 20 somethings with entitlement issues is its own sort of exhausting. And that was before all the Cake Boss tourists. I want my current neighborhood to stay under the radar and "uncool", even if it means there's only one Dunkin' Donuts and one Starbucks serving the whole area (perish the thought).

So, yes, ironically enough, what I fear most about Snooki and JWoww's arrival is gentrification, and thus getting pushed out of my happy existence as a result. I guess time will tell, but yeah, I'm a little worried.

Though I guess it could be truly worse. It could be the Kardashians.

Only a Parade and a Million People Stood Between Me and Work Today

2012-02-07T11:47:00.001-05:00

Normally, crowds in NYC - or anywhere, for that matter - make me run the other way. But since I am a sports fan, and since I like big, happy occassions, I decided to voluntarily cross through the fray that is the Giants' Super Bowl victory parade to get to my office, rather than go the easier route of the subway. I knew what I was getting myself into - I hiked all the way up from Delaware to go to the Yankees' parade in 1998, so, yes, I was prepared for the insanity. Luckily, it was two hours before parade time, so it wasn't quite that nuts yet, but when it takes me five times as long to walk a mere block, it might have something to do with the city's population increasing slightly.

For the record, when I get off the PATH, I ALWAYS avoid the walkway that is Vesey Street between Church and West Broadway, because it's a crapload of people funneled into one small space, all walking slow when I like to walk…not slow. And then they literally keep you chained in from crossing the street against the light, because I guess people have hurt themselves doing this (not surprising). But today, I figured, "What the hey?" even though it was going to be like ten times the people. And this is what I got:

Then, when I could actually walk further, I couldn't turn left, for, oh, the entire tip of lower Manhattan, but I did get to loop through parade lines and see the following:

All in all it wasn't so, so bad. Everyone was merry (the two guys in Giants jerseys freaking out about this tiny guy's pompadour...and calling him "Afro!!!" and then pulling him aside to talk about his hair was maybe the randomly awesomest thing I saw) and the cops were good about letting people through barricades if they had to get across Broadway to, you know, get to work. Although I did have to wait for this truck to pass before I could go, which is definitely a departure from a normal work day:

You can bet, however, if it were a Yankees parade, I'd have claimed there was no possible way to get to work, and ohmygosh, I'm just going to have to stay here till it's over. Priorities.

Ca-Ching! Ba-Gock! Etc.

2012-02-06T22:31:00.000-05:00

The Yankee Chicken takes a break from counting his ~~strip club earnings~~ Super Bowl Pool winnings, because now that football season's over, yeahhhh, you know the best season of all is comin'.

Quote of the Other Day

2012-02-06T17:29:00.002-05:00

"I wouldn't send my kids to boarding school...unless it was Hogwarts." - Ken

Ode to (Giants Influenced) Joy

2012-02-05T23:42:00.001-05:00

I don't even consider myself a Giants fan (I do not invest enough interest in the team to ever have the word "fanatic" applied to me. Wish more people felt that way about their Yankees "fandom." Ahem), but, my god, the last minute of that game may have taken about five years off my life. I don't think I breathed during the last New England possession. Maybe it takes a certain mindset to get swept up in a game like that, but I do feel sorry for people who don't get to experience that burst of crazy feeling. It's not quite unadulterated joy for me, like when the Yankees win (and I rock back and forth on the couch and do things like clean to burn off nervous energy), but it is a nice level of joy just the same.

What's even better is when you're in the area where the hometown team wins. I was in Hoboken, current home of Eli Manning, this evening, and as my friend Rachel and I made our way toward Washington Street, the sounds of cheering and car honking got louder and louder. Like so, and this was roughly a half hour after the game ended (my favorite part is the taxi with the flashing interior blue lights - he was beeping his horn rhythmically and waving to everyone, like he was in a a parade):

And this doesn't even do it justice. There were so many flag-bedecked cars driving by with people in Giants jerseys cheering as they hung out the window. People were randomly high-fiving each other on the street, and calling to each other from opposite sidewalks with "wooooooo"s. "Let's Go Giants" was pretty much the only thing I heard between this street corner and the PATH station. And when I got there, this PATH conductor was coming up the stairs smiling, all, "Ain't no doubt who won."

It reminded me of when Italy won the World Cup all those years ago, except, you know, with a team I actually somewhat care about.

Anyway, I also won the first two quarters of my office pool on a 0 and 9, so YEAHHHHHHH, BITCHEZ. Good night, indeed.

In Which I Horrify Lots of People

2012-02-05T11:27:00.002-05:00

So, today, at the risk of incurring the wrath and pearl-clutching of my editorial-minded friends on Facebook (and, having been an English major and working in publishing for 13 years, let's just say I have a lot of them), I let it be known my displeasure with a certain few grammar lists of do's and don'ts going around right now, lists that imply "stupidity" on the part of anyone who makes mistakes, like the wrong usage of "Its vs. It's" "You're vs. Your," "Could HAVE vs. Could OF" in their Facebook statuses.

As a copy editor, these are things I'm paid every day to find in editorial copy. If I see errors like that in a published work, something someone got paid for to write/edit? Why, yes, I might sigh a little (but not too much, as being a copy editor has taught me that EVERYONE makes mistakes and no one is above them). But in a Facebook status? Nyet. Not gonna ruin my day. Why? Well, I have several theories, and all of them stem from this sort of thing being my day job, which I guess is ironic and I should be more upset about it, but there you go.

Being a copy editor is like being in a constant grammatical war. Every day, I find things that go beyond it's vs. its and you're vs. your (which, sidebar, are mistakes I've made in my own statuses, not because I don't know any better, but because I was rushing through my status, or tired, or my attention was divided. This, however, does not make me stupid). Things that could ruin my magazine's reputation (egregious factual errors), or have publicists sicced on us (misspelled names on exclusive interviews). I've seen people fired over Big Deals like this, and it's horrible, because you can catch a million errors as a copy editor, but the one thing you don't catch, it's your head on a spike. And it's not going to be for a celebrity saying, "I could care less" in an interview and me not fixing it to "couldn't care less." So the weight of these types of errors kind of makes me like "whatever" when I see someone using the wrong "your" on Facebook.

Also, when I'm editing a story, and I come across a rogue "loose" when the writer means "lose", I don't sit there and think to myself, "God, this person is ridiculous", even if they have more than a few errors. Because, in my case, I know these people are pressed for time, are writing several things at once. And, mostly because it is my job to fix their mistakes, not judge them for making them in the first place. Another reason I can't get bent out of shape for poor grammar in a Facebook status: I'm not being paid to care about that, and I like leaving my work at work.

Also, I'm a copy editor. I say this yet again to point out why I went into this field: Because reading has been my strong suit from an early age. I could've majored in finance...and flunked out of college, such is my lifelong struggle with mathematics. I'm useless when it comes to chemistry, so I won't be finding us a cure for cancer. I took six years of Spanish and could barely get by when trying to converse with a maintenance worker who showed up at my press-trip villa in Mexico. I don't have the right personality to become a good nurse or caregiver. I'm too selfish with my life to ever want to be a cop or a firefighter. I have my own failings, and it's just by chance that social media revolves around the usage or words and not, say, figuring out fractions (I'd be so f***ed if that were the case, you guys), so I don't look foolish to the 294 people who follow me (unless they hate the Yankees or HGTV, of course).

Finally, while there are some Facebook friends I haven't seen in years, I have a special affection for each and every one of them in some way. I don't "friend" people I actively dislike. So if someone's tragic flaw is not knowing the difference between "their" and "there", I'm not gonna hate on them for it. Their misuse of a word isn't going to bring down the economy or start a tsunami or kill a puppy or make the Yankees lose the World Series. And they're not "stupid" for doing this.

Having said all this, I think I do understand the level of frustration my friends are feeling when they post these lists. A lot of it is the fact that these are things we're ALL taught when we're young, stuff that's hammered into us from kindergarten through senior year of high school at the most basic level. And you know there may be people who "matter" out in the real world who judge you on these sorts of things. But in my own case, I know why I became a grammarian: Because of my love of reading. Which stemmed from parents who read to me and encouraged me to read more from a young age. Which helped me really and truly figure out how to master the English language. Ideally, more parents would be encouraging with books, but for whatever reason, it may not be the case with everyone out there. I don't know everyone's story and therefore, I don't want to get annoyed with anyone because of that.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get my W2s together because I'm going to H&R Block this week to get my taxes done, because my horrible, awful no-good math skills make taxes intimidating for me. If my accountant makes a mistake that gets me audited? I'm gonna be pissssssssed. But if she uses "e.g." when she means "i.e.", yeah, not a deal breaker.

We all have our strong suits.

Having to Touch the Subway Pole After Some Guy's Butt Was Just On It - I'm Living the High Life, Man

2012-02-03T21:11:00.001-05:00

Okay, so, I don't really like to talk politics on this blog because I have my issues with all involved on the subject and it would just get really depressing over here. But after seeing this quote from Gingrich last week...

“Those who, you know, live in high-rise apartment buildings writing for fancy newspapers in the middle of town after they ride the metro, who don’t understand that for most Americans the ability to buy a home, to have their own property, to have a sense of belonging is one of the greatest achievements of their life, and it makes them feel like they are good solid citizens."

...followed by reports today that he reiterated the whole "elitists ride the subway" spiel to a crowd in Vegas, well, I think I have to comment on the subject.

First off, before I even get started on the subway part, let me fully disclose that I work in the media. It's not a "fancy newspaper" and it does not pay very well. At all. Hence why I live in an older-than-dirt walkup in Jersey City. My friends who have worked at newspapers? Generally make less than I do. They're forced to take furloughs so their places of employment can stay afloat. And, lest anyone forget, newspapers are in trouble across the board, so I HIGHLY doubt employees outside of the really, really high-up positions, be it "fancy" or "not fancy" paper, is making quite enough money to be considered "elite." Or whatever the buzzword is these days.

Now, for the subway. Being the living-paycheck-to-paycheck person I am, I cannot afford a car service. I don't indulge in taxis very often. I can't justify the $6.50 one-way ticket on the ferry more than a few times a year. So I take the PATH, which is the NJ equivalent of the subway, into Manhattan, where I catch the carriages of wealth known as the 1,2,3 or R train to my place of employment, all for $2.50 per ride. On the trains, well, it's mostly budget-minded tourists from all over Europe and...oh, hey, middle Americans! The exact contingent he thinks he's pandering to with these comments...riding down to see the World Trade Center site, Wall Street or the Statue of Liberty. But aside from them? It's me, the other people who can't afford to take taxis to work, the crazy people, the homeless people, the crazy homeless people, and if you're lucky, the kids selling candy at jacked-up prices for their "basketball team." (And sometimes, awesomely, the hustling 12-year-olds dancing to Michael Jackson for money, who are by far my favorite subway act of the moment. But I digress). And if I catch it at the right time? Well, picture all these tourists and NYC natives smashed together, body to body, in a symphony known as Rush Hour, or This Model of Elitism Breaks Down All the Time and Therefore May Be Delayed and Thus Overcrowded.

And lest THAT not prove my point, let me tell you about my ride the other day, on a non-crowded train, when I took a seat in an empty row and, as I waited the five minutes or so before the train actually moved, noticed the smell of urine. And realized that these seats were probably some homeless person's bed last night and left their scent behind. Or some guy passed out after drinking with his co-workers and soiled himself. Or some kid wasn't exactly toilet trained yet. And then I had to worry if my coat was now going to smell like piss. The lap of luxury, I tell you.

ALSO. AHEM. I would LOVE to own my own home, but I CAN'T AFFORD TO. What's that? I live outside Manhattan? I work in the media? I ride the subway to work? In blanket statement world I SHOULD be able to afford a home? Well, then, talk to most of my friends who also work in media and would never, ever in a million trillion years be able to afford a down payment because they're too busy trying to make ends meet. You don't have to be from Nebraska or Alabama or Whoever We're Pandering To Now, USA, to feel completely terrible sometimes to know you probably won't get to experience "one of the greatest achievements" of your life. And that f***ing sucks.

So, Newt, you can say what you want about the other candidates, but when you make a comment so ridiculously out of touch about myself and many other people I know, be they high-rise dwelling or basement-apartment renting or living again with Mom and Dad because their newspaper laid off half its staff, well, you're never getting my vote. Oh, hell no.

In Winter It's a Marshmallow World. All the Better for S'mores.

2012-01-29T00:10:00.001-05:00

The Yankee Chicken eases his offseason ennui by attempting to go into sugar shock (and indulging in some seriously terrible Bad Movie Night fare), but not before he does his duty as a countdowning, good-luck chicken and all that.

It's Not Much of a Conversationalist, But Still.

2012-01-25T22:07:00.003-05:00

Confession: I've worked in NYC for almost 13 years (egads) and I still manage to get lost in lower Manhattan. For serious, take me off the grid and I literally have to load up the GPS on my phone to help figure out where I am. While walking. That's probably because up until this summer, when my office moved downtown, I'd rarely have to find myself down that way.

Yet, back in the day, all I needed to do was look up, find the World Trade Center, and figure myself out. Those two buildings were like beacons when I'd get lost down there - just gaze skyward, find them, and know which way was south and north, like a giant compass of sorts. Obviously, this has hardly been the case the last ten years. Until this evening.

But let me back up and talk a little about the new 1 World Trade Center. When my office moved down to the Financial District in July, I was glad in that it was getting me out of midtown for the first time in all my years working in NYC. A change of scenery (with A LOT less tourists), if you will. The PATH train comes in under the World Trade construction site, so since then, I've been seeing first-hand all the re-building that goes on down there. It wasn't till about a week into the move that I figured out the building going up almost directly over the station was the new 1 World Trade Center - I'd caught glimpses of it from across the river as it slowly rose, but being right under it was eye-opening. Seriously, when you stand under that thing, you get a total appreciation for its gargantuan height, something you really can't get even from a few blocks away. You just kind of stare up at it all, "Okay, you win. I'm never going to be as tall as you."

This was how it looked in September. It's much taller now.

Anyway, you know how I started talking to the Empire State Building post-9/11? Well, I started doing it with this guy too, because I want to be neighborly. Whenever I go into the PATH station to make my way home, I offer it my salutations (in my head - not out loud. I don't need my ass dragged to Bellevue or anything), like "Hey there, friend!" Sometimes I'm like, "You will NOT believe the day I had. Hope yours was better." I wished it a happy new year when I was coming home in the early hours of Jan. 1. And I'm pretty sure we're both psyched the Giants are in the Super Bowl.

So what does this have to do with getting lost like an idiot in the Financial District? Well, this evening, I decided to walk to the PATH, instead of take the subway. I've pretty much avoided this the last few months since I TWICE ended up walking in circles (and, really, who wants to end up back at their office?), but tonight I figured I could swing by the local Gristedes and then head home without incident. I kind of thought I was going the right way up Maiden Lane, but I had this nagging doubt that comes with being burned before by lack of a street grid.

But then it happened. I looked up and there it was, juuuust peeping up over the tops of the other tall buildings in the neighborhood: 1World Trade Center. For the first time in 10 years, I knew I was walking in the right direction.

"Thanks, new friend," I said. "Nice to see you, too."

The Writers of Downton Abbey are Baseball Fans

2012-01-23T00:09:00.001-05:00

How do I know this? Because how else do you explain Mary's throwaway line of "Granny Being Granny" in tonight's episode?

Maybe the Dowager Countess will profess a desire for a comeback and have teams like the A's interested in her? I think she'd love to learn all about Moneyball...

Merci, Bed Coup

2012-01-22T20:23:00.009-05:00

In an attempt to show the cat who's the boss of the non-human portion of the household, The Yankee Chicken takes over her (yes, completely tacky) bed. But he always remembers his duties as a luck-bringer and countdown enthusiast first.

Because Croissants Should Be Flaky, Not Countdowns

2012-01-16T21:05:00.000-05:00

The Yankee Chicken apologizes for the delay in this week's countdown. He was too busy trying to figure out how this tiny little frozen slab became a real-deal croissant over night. All the more reason for baseball season to hurry up and get here, as hot dogs don't have this kind of mystery.

Gotta Get Those Nicknames Ready...

2012-01-13T21:45:00.001-05:00

After a long day of making changes to my current work-in-progress (and, let's be real here, catching up on the DVR as I hide from a roach that is loose somewhere in my the vicinity of my bedroom) I walked away from my computer to heat up a Trader Joe's frozen chocolate lava cake (Yes is the answer to whatever you're thinking right now) and eat said lava cake. I go back to my computer in what must be a little less than a half hour and my Twitter feed has exploded with the Montero trade news. My first thought "BUT WHAT ABOUT ALL THOSE AWESOME JESUS HEADLINES THAT MIGHT'VE BEEN?" followed quickly by, "Wait. They have to know something about Pineda and Campos that makes this worthwhile." And while I don't believe AT ALL in playing baseball on paper, Pineda does have what looks like really decent stats for a 22-year-old, and it sounds like Campos has been showing some promise. And I've always trusted Brian Cashman.

I bring that up, because this whole winter thus far, all I've been hearing is Yankees fans whining about the Yankees being cheap and not pulling the trigger on any big stars, when the ones out there weren't exactly Cliff Lee caliber. Also: I didn't realize there was a deadline on making big winter moves. The Yanks signed Thumper in January; the A-Rod deal went down on Valentine's Day. My point is: Don't complain about lack of moves until it's spring training. And even then, you never know. So, yeah, don't doubt Brian Cashman.

Anyway, I'm heartened by what I'm seeing from beat writers quoting other MLB executives who think the Yankees really did get a great deal here. While commiserating with my father on the deal (we are most excited about Hiroki Kuroda, whose name sounds a lot like Rookie Carroca, the character from My Favorite Year, whom our late Labrador Rookie was named after, but I digress), he brought up the point that no one was really sold on Montero as a catcher anyway, so where were they going to play him? So that's one little consolation in losing someone who may end up being an elite power hitter in a few years.

Also funny is that this all goes down on Friday the 13th. And that 4/5 of the rotation have a last name that ends in the letter A, 5/5 if Garcia is the fifth starter. And that the Twitter trending topics looked something like this an hour ago:

The Walk to Remember juxtaposition kind of cracked me up, but then I am enjoying a bit of a post-lava cake sugar rush at the moment.

If Cheese Is Wrong, Pass the "I Don't Wanna Be Right" Crackers

2012-01-11T23:05:00.002-05:00

Confession - okay, it's not really a confession, because if you've read this blog the last 10 years you'd know it already — I like cheesy music. And I've gotten to the point in my life where I don't feel the need to qualify that with "But I like good music too" because I'm tired of labeling things as "bad" because it's a "guilty pleasure." Like, why would I have to feel guilty about liking a song (albeit one that involves a singer who was quite well-known for his mullet)? I didn't murder anyone. I didn't steal someone's prized lawn ornaments. My liking said song does not inflict pain on you in anyway (unless you don't like it and press play...and, well, then that's your problem for watching it knowing full well what's about to happen, not mine). So why should guilt be involved in any way? Oh, right, because music snobs exist. Or should I say, people with limited imaginations who haven't learned the whole notion "To Each His Own" exist.

ANYWAY. I enjoy the hell out of this song. I mean, Tonya and I saw him in concert in 2005 (Remember? And what's up with Flickr not attaching old photos anymore. Hmph) and it was pretty awesome then, nearly 20 years after it was released. I mean, there was actual thought put into the lyrics and they aren't just thrown together in rhyme-y fashion, and it's sung with feeling. There have been moments when it's come on in, like, a Duane Reade and I have this incredible urge to belt out "I don't know howwww, to stop feeeeeeling this wayayayayayyyyy" from my spot in the shampoo aisle (I don't though. It IS New York and all, but I don't want to ruin anyone else's experience as they stock up for their medicine cabinets). Hence, it's a GREAT karaoke song.

But still. I'm not going to feel bad about it, and I'm planning on more posts like this, where I fully intend to lose street cred with the cool kids... and not give a flying crap.

Because There's Always Room for (Home) Improvement

2012-01-08T19:29:00.000-05:00

The Yankee Chicken takes a break from thinking about some looming home-improvement projects to remind you that the best "fix" for January blahs is the knowledge that baseball season is somewhere on the horizon.

And this is just so you know what I'm up against when shooting these photos:

My god, the cat has to know everything about everything that goes on in this apartment. It's amazing I got even one shot without her being nosy in the frame.

On Jorge Hanging It Up

2012-01-08T11:50:00.000-05:00

You remember what you were doing on Oct. 16 (into the early part of Oct. 17) 2003, don't you? Because there's no way in hell I'll ever forget.

And while many people will forever associate that game with Aaron Boone (and, yeah, he deserves that), I think what a lot of people forget is that incredible 8th inning. Down by three runs, the Yanks mounted a comeback in what may have been the most adrenaline-filled half inning that I've ever had the pleasure of watching. The crowd was practically manic in its glee as it was all unfolding, but when you saw how into it the players were, how much this mattered to them as much as it did to the fans and how they were all feeding off each other's excitement, it was pretty much the most perfect sports moment I'd seen till that point (topped only by what Mr. Boone did three innings later).

In all of that, the player I remember most was Jorge Posada. He comes up with the score 5-3, two runners on and the crowd practically unable to contain itself (I was watching in my parents' basement and I could literally feel my heart beat...in my eyes. Seriously, I probably came really close to giving myself a stroke that night), and you know everyone's thinking "home run." But he drops in this little bloop single. And both runners score. An the game is tied. And somehow he manages to get to second base and has this unforgettable cathartic burst of primal "YES"ness, like so:

In that moment, you saw that not only did the however many millions of Yankee fans want to beat the Red Sox so, so badly, this guy did too.

That is how I will remember Jorge Posada. And for that memory alone, he gets a lifetime of gratefulness from me.

Oh, okay. Maybe I'll remember him for this, too:

I'm Going to Talk About Rock Formations and You're Going to Like It

2012-01-07T01:06:00.002-05:00

So back when Ken and I visited Erica in California in November, my only sightseeing request was to go to Leo Carillo State Beach in Malibu, aka the beach where the movie Gidget was filmed, because that is, like, "the ultimate." While we weren't exactly on the right part of the beach (the filming location part wasn't near the parking lot and would've required climbing over some rocks to get there), I could at least get a feel for it and could see the exact beach/rock formations from where we stood.

The other side of these rocks? Was where Kahuna and Moondoggie hung out with the Gidg. Like so:

Anyway, cut to tonight, when I'm watching one my fave utterly delightful movies, That Thing You Do! (thanks to Jamie for the heads up that it's now streaming on Netflix), and the scene where the band is filming the Frankie and Annette type movie comes on and I'm like, "Hey! I've seen rocks like that before!"

So I google it and, lo, it's the same beach as Gidget. Again, though, on the other side from where I was. Doh!

And that is my unnecessary but still awesome (to like three people) factoid of the day.

ETA: Hold the phone. It's also the beach where Daniel-San played soccer much to the delight of Alli with an "i". Although, in all fairness, the rock formation does look a little less impressive. Hmm.:

New Year, Same Chicken

2012-01-01T19:53:00.001-05:00

The Yankee Chicken takes a break from re-watching Downton Abbey (a bandwagon he was part of looooooong before it became hip to watch it. He just wants to make that clear) to offer news that will make the upstairs AND downstairs quite happy. He also apologizes for having only a black tie for dinner and not a white one. Alas, he only fancies himself a part of the aristocracy.

Some Things I'll Remember About 2011

2011-12-31T18:49:00.001-05:00

So. This year. Let's just say it wasn't my favorite or anything. I mean, it started with my agent and me hopeful that some editor was going to fall in love with my book - and two did...but their sales teams didn't. Because of "the current market". And the other editors passed. So, yeah, that wasn't frustrating or anything. And neither was some work-related drama. No, not at all. I guess it was all a "learning experience" or whatever, but...meh.

However, since I am usually a half-glass-full kind of person, let's look back at the better times of the last twelve months.

My most remember-y type, blog-worthy days of 2011:

- One of my most favorite days this year was when I visited Liana and Eric in London, and Liana and I took the train to Stratford-Upon-Avon to see William Shakespeare's house. It was a beautiful early spring afternoon (seriously - it was blooming about three weeks before it even hit here), and Liana and I took this little path that cut through quaint neighborhoods to get to Anne Hathaway's house. It was just so...nice.

- The day I spent alone in Bruges was just amazing. Traveling alone isn't always ideal - especially when there's no one to help you figure out that the thing you think is an emergency exit is actually a bathroom - but I had no problem roaming around maybe the quaintest place I've ever been. When I happened upon the town convent area, with its thousands of daffodils and the sound of nuns singing vespers from the church, it was maybe the most peaceful moment of my year.

- Yes, I did wake up early to watch the royal wedding. I didn't blog about it, but I feel it needs to be noted. Historic stuff and whatnot.

- Anytime you can say you navigated the twisty turns of Laurel Canyon Blvd. in L.A., and can still successfully sing along to More Than Words with Erica, well, that qualifies as a good day too. Also, on that same trip: climbing to the Hollywood sign...and celebrating that feat with Chick-fil-A. Also: eating lunch on the beach. In November.

- That day I met Thumper? The first Yankee I've ever met? Was quite the awesomest. Even if it was raining and I almost hauled off and beat the crap out of these guys who were making fun of a mentally handicapped guy (my biggest regret of the year is not saying anything to them, but since I was working and I was way, way, WAY angry in that moment, I felt it best to not say anything, lest I blow up and bring retribution unto my place of employment. Still. That grown men would behave in such a way makes me sick. That I had to keep my mouth shut annoys me to this day. But the Thumper part was fantastic.)

- Remember the earthquake? What's crazy about it is that for a good five minutes I just had to assume it was an earthquake because my mom, 50 miles away, had felt nothing. Then I was like, "Oh, wait, Facebook!"

And right after I typed this status, I noticed about four or five other ones, one being from my old roommate Melissa in Hoboken, who'd felt it. Then I started seeing people in Philly and Baltimore chiming in and it was like "Holy cow." What was annoying, though, were the West Coast transplants mocking everyone the next day, to which I wanted to be like, "If it ever snows in L.A., I don't want to f***ing hear about it." And I still stand firm on that.

- And the hurricane a few days later? Oh, that was fun.

- Best day of the year, hands down: July 9. I can't think of a more perfect day at the ballpark, under extraordinarily perfect circumstances. If I remember 2011 for anything, it will be that.

Misty, Day-Glow Covered Memories

2011-12-31T11:27:00.000-05:00

For whatever reason, I feel like 2011 was the year that the 90s became the decade to look back on warmly as the "the best." Apparently, people have not sat down to watch VH1's I Love the 80s back-to-back with I Love the 90s, because after viewing that, it's no contest about which decade was far more fun, pop-culture wise. But then I realized a lot of it has to do with what age you were when. Like, I obviously remember more of the 90s, but the 80s will almost always be the halcyon days for me.

It probably seems strange because the most pivotal decade in my life thus far was the 90s. I started and graduated high school. I got my drivers' license. I started and graduated college. I got my first real job. I went from merely liking the Yankees to knowing almost everything you need to know about them (don't laugh - there really is so much about that that's shaped my life). Yet I don't get nearly as nostalgic for, say, 1994, as I would for 1984 (sidebar: No songs can ever do wrong for me from that year, no matter how cheesy. Amiright, "Oh, Sherrie," "All Night Long" and the entire Footloose soundtrack?) Maybe because the 90s was when I hit 13 and started becoming self-aware. As important as it is in your adult life to have as much self-awareness as humanly possible, I think it all starts going downhill from there in terms of your innocence and ability to enjoy things unabashedly. And I don't mean that to sound all "put away childish things" or something depressing like that - it's more like, you're focused on other stuff (good stuff, even, like being able to turn the oven on by yourself and bake cookies) that doesn't get in the way when you're 7.

What I think it comes down to is this: in the 80s, all I had to do was be a kid. I had no real concerns (except one not-so-nice teacher whom I'd had the pleasure of having twice, but that's another topic for another day) - it was basically 10 years of playing with my friends (either riding bikes outside or being inside with Barbies or the Intellivision), looking forward to/enjoying summer vacation/Christmas/my birthday/the incredible awesomeness of snow days. And it was all going on in a time when anything pop-culture related was cranked to 11. So of course I associate The A-Team or Wham! or Rubik's Cubes with good times. I mean, I still associate the 80s version of American Bandstand with getting a Smurf bigwheel for my birthday because that's what I was watching before my birthday party that year and I'd gotten it the night before. I'm sure Culture Club or Madonna or whoever was playing that day, so of course I'll never, ever dislike them (sidebar: I still associate Madonna's "Borderline" playing on the radio while I was doing a Donald Duck math workbook - a subject I still loathe - with good times because it was like two days before summer vacation started and I was really amped for it at 7. For real). Still, a Smurf bigwheel was all I needed to be really, really happy back then, so anything associated with that is awesome for me as well. Even the giant scar on my ankle, a direct result of that bigwheel. Oh, yes.

My precioussssss

Which is why I laugh when I see all these lists on websites where the writer is nostalgic for the 90s (this has been happening more often than not lately, as it seems most blog writers on big pop-y sites are like 25-26 and getting to the age where you've been commisterating with your friends over "Remember XYZ? That ruled" enough to feel the need to speak for a generation). Not that there's anything wrong with looking back fondly at old stuff (see this entire post), but when it's like a broad, not-broken-down-by-decade list of the "best ever" of kids' shows or commercials or one-hit wonders, and said list is populated entirely by things like The Secret World of Alex Mack or "Tubthumping" with a complete disregard for anything that came before it because the writer doesn't remember anything pre-1993... well, I guess I start to feel a little old or something at 34.

Like, for me, Punky Brewster >>> any kid main-character-based show Nickelodeon can churn out in any decade. It will always be better because I was at the exact age that show was supposed to be appreciated in 1985. It was a show for me, for kids my age, something that inspires the first version of watercooler talk a kid can have (although, weirdly, a bunch of us felt the same way about North and South in the 3rd grade and that was clearly not geared toward our demographic). Someone born earlier than me would probably feel the same about, like, The Brady Bunch. Or Leave it to Beaver (which, sidebar, are shows I watched as a kid, too, thanks to Channel 9 and Channel 11. Are kids today watching The Facts of Life or Who's the Boss somewhere? God, I hope so.). Which is why I'd never assume I can name something the "best ever" for everyone because, well, I haven't been alive as long as pop-culture has. Though, I get it: "The best EVER" is more sexy and likely to get hits than "Things that I think are the best".

So, yes, personally speaking, I think the 80s were a really effing fantastic time to be a kid. For me, "the best." And no amount of "Remember Crystal Pepsi and Hammer Pants?!?!" or "OMG, I was in the first grade when this Color Me Badd song came out!" or lists of 90s child stars then and now (Like, do I care? They're all younger than me, so they still look young and are therefore always youthful) is going to make me think differently.

Although, I'm betting that in about 6-7 years from now, when all these "the 2000s were the best!" posts start rolling in, 80s and 90s kids are going to be most definitely united in being all "Oh, hell no," over that. Because, come on now.

Quote of the (Christmas) Day

2011-12-25T17:58:00.003-05:00

"Henry's on the basement floor. Don't anybody step on his face!" - My mom, on the Henry Cavill poster I got her for the laundry room.

An Early Christmas Present of Sorts

2011-12-21T23:33:00.001-05:00

Isn't it awesome when something good can come of your choice in the either all-together frightening or utterly freezing bathrooms in your place of employment? Because it happened for me today, you guys (because of the frightening bathroom - though, to be fair, the freezing one has had its share of splashy-splashy times):

Shazam! Tweeted at by former Yankees and now this!

I shall never understand how people hate social media...

Playing Matchmaker: The TRUE Meaning of Christmas, Y'all

2011-12-21T21:51:00.000-05:00

So, as has become our yearly custom, Ken and I did our annual "Christmas Saturday", in which we bake a crapload of cookies and watch cheesy, made-for-TV holiday movies, just so we can rip on them. While this year's choice, The 12 Dates of Christmas, was FAR more coherent than, say, Christmas Cupid, and actually showcased the holiday in its title unlike, say, The 12 Men of Christmas, it left me more than a little, uh, peeved.

Why? Because it's central message was pretty much "Be nice to people...and make sure everyone you know is paired up." At least that's what I took away from it. I mean, how could I not, when our heroine turns to her blind date at Midnight Mass (don't ask), points out her elderly neighbor sitting in a pew and says "I don't want to end up alone like her." Meanwhile, said neighbor is shown to be a jolly, friendly woman, who bakes lots of delicious fruitcakes and has a red Kitchen-Aid mixer - the mark of a truly hip and excellent old lady. She mentions she doesn't have a husband or kids to bake for, but it comes off matter-of-fact, and not feeling sorry for herself. Yet the main character cannot bear the thought of this horrendousness. Oh no, making it into her dotage with enough of her faculties that she can still live alone AND take herself to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve is just NOT a fate that should befall anyone, you guys. She later sets her up with an older guy she keeps running into, because playing cupid is what people should do when they're living a day over and over again, trying to get something right.

What's also curious is that the movie makes a point to show this girl's ex boyfriend, a nice guy who had planned on proposing to her until she got all obsessed with getting married. He didn't want to end up just some guy who was helping her meet a goal. So does she learn from this? You know, maybe take some time to get okay with herself? Nay, she decides to pair up every remaining single person she knows, give guys who were already pretty okay (in a hipsterly way) makeovers and not question what some kid did with a giant paper-bag-covered magnum of champagne that just happened to disappear from the time he left the liqour store to the time she runs into him in the alley. No, continuity is just beyond her because his plotline didn't involve meeting The One (instead it involved puppies). Oh, and she had to fall in love with her blind date over these 12 dates. So I can see how the movie might forget that little flaw of hers that led her to her current state to begin with, but what should we care? Her surface flaws were fixed! That's enough, right? SIGH.

Now, now, I know it's not a movie that's meant to be taken to heart so much, but I'm so tired of every TV movie pressing this whole "LIVING ALONE IS DEATH TO LIFE!" notion or whatever. It's bad enough that there's this message of "You must find a mate or your life means nothing" pushed on us by society or Hollywood or relatives (not mine, just to FYI - THANK GOD), that adding one more chip to that pile-on just vexes the hell out of me. Happiness doesn't come from other people. You gotta figure that shizz out for yourself or you aren't going to be an old lady who takes herself to midnight mass - you're going to be an old lady who's bitter and pissed that life didn't meet your expectations. And then you only have yourself to blame.

And I'm glad I don't need to relive Christmas Saturday 2011 12 times over to realize that.

On Going to The Symphony

2011-12-14T11:40:00.000-05:00

Last night at Lincoln Center (for a performance of Handel's Messiah):

Lady to guy in row in front of us: "So, which of the arts is your favorite?"
Guy: "Oh, I really enjoy the ballet and opera."

Gist of Ken and Rachel's conversation in our row:
"Zac Efron was really hot in New Year's Eve!"

Also observed:

- Avery Fisher Hall looks way bigger on TV

- The end of the Hallelujah Chorus is akin to the end of the 7th inning at a Yankee game: people take it as their cue to bolt from the premises, even if there's still more to go.

- No one wore formal evening attire, which is at once relieving and a bummer. I was really hoping to gawk.

Quote of the Day

2011-12-05T15:40:00.002-05:00

"They take all these cute guys and make them into movie stars…and then they don't want to be my friend." - Former Production Gal Amy, on the vexingness of this sort of thing.

Crushin' on Mr. Fix-It

2011-12-04T20:16:00.001-05:00

You know what's one of my secret pleasures? Along with real estate guides and sitting in a room with just the Christmas tree lights on (doing that right now, y'all)? Home renovation shows. Oh yes.

It all stems back to when we had construction done on our house when I was in the eighth grade, which is seriously another post for another day because it was six months with the randomest motley crew of construction workers in our lives (example: burly guys terrified of your pet Labrador; a guy who was once arrested for riding a horse while drunk; workers tearing out your staircase, taking their ladder home...and leaving a radio on upstairs. It was a very amusing time in Casa Bischer). But seeing the end result and the sheer amount of work that went into it really opened my eyes to how awesome home renovations can be.

So, anyway, since then, I've enjoyed renovate-y things. I like walking around Home Depots. I like when people I know are having their houses/condos redone and I can see what their plans are. And, yes, I like home improvement shows. And HGTV and DIY are like a crack supplier for me with those things.

Anyway, that's all just a whole lot of explaining to bring us to my point, my latest installment of KB's TV Crush (which, sidebar, this is like a boom time for cute, "KB's Type" guys on TV. Thank you, whoever is making that happen):

Matt Muenster, the host of Bath Crashers. A little scruffy, a lot personable, actually funny (His reaction to a bathroom festooned with swans, "It's a water fowl adventure in here!", was particularly charming) mixed with manly home reno-type stuff and shazzam! Yeah, I may be enjoying this show a lot lately. The fact that it's on like 16 times a week doesn't hurt.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm all DIY inspired right now, and have to fix my makeshift star holder/transplanted branch on my Christmas tree. If they ever have a show about that and other useful ways to use Scotch Tape, I'm so there.

Drink a Toast to Innocence, But Not to Mark Zuckerberg, I Guess

2011-12-01T22:17:00.001-05:00

You know what doesn't happen if Facebook exists, like, 35 years ago? THIS SONG.

Think about it. If Dan and his lady friend had Facebook, they more than likely would've "friended" each other, even though they were exes, because they were clearly both fond of each other despite breaking up. So he would've known that she was in a joyless marriage because she probably would've posted a status along the lines of "Would like to say I love the man, but I don't want to lie, lol." And she would've known the audience was heavenly, but the traveling was hell because he probably would've said something like "Great show, Cleveland. But I just miss my f***ing waterbed, man." Although I don't know if a man who wrote a song about "fishes in the ocean" would've cursed on the ol' FB, but you never know.

Still. The point is, they probably wouldn't have had as poignant or as song-writing-worthy of a reunion in the grocery store if the internet existed back then. God knows, they probably would have had an emotional affair via direct messages and emails, without even seeing each other in person and then the architect would've found out about it while checking out his wife's smartphone and instead of food shopping on Christmas Eve, he and Dan's lady friend would've spent the holidays getting to know each other again on Bora Bora or consulting a divorce lawyer or something. Nothing as nostalgia worthy as what actually went down.

Thank god for it, I guess. But I wonder how many other things get ruined because of technology. Alas.

Let's Give Thanks...

2011-11-23T14:15:00.000-05:00

...that the product Melmac existed, because if not, this work of art never would have made its way into the local Two Guys, where it was then purchased for my parents' 1970s Thanksgiving extravaganza. And it still holds our turkey to this day (much to my mother's chagrin):

And also, I'm thankful for Google Doodles. I "made" this one today. I only wish it showed him blinking, because that's my favorite part:

Do You Know What Time It Is?

2011-11-20T20:05:00.002-05:00

The Chicken does. Yes, it's almost time to find your favorite feathered friend in your mailbox. So if you want your annual Chicken Christmas card, email kabsy77@yahoo.com. Or else.

Not to Overreact, but...Yeah, Let's Overreact

2011-11-14T23:23:00.001-05:00

So...Community is being put on hiatus? Oh, no, this isn't upsetting AT ALL.

Okay, so I know this isn't an out-and-out cancellation...yet. And I know this is the network that let Friday Night Lights survive (albiet with a lot of help from DirecTV) when the ratings sucked, and that they let this show survive despite low ratings (though what programming on that network outside of football IS doing well?). But. If the show goes by the wayside while shows like...God, I can't even type it without grimacing...Whitney get second life on a new night, I will stop watching NBC. Yes, I will give up The Office, which I have not felt much affinity for lately (funny, given how much I used to love it) but stuck with out of loyalty. I will give up Parks and Rec, which I think is one of the most charming shows on the air. I will give up 30 Rock, which I still enjoy. I won't watch Smash, which I was excited about. I will give up...THE OLYMPICS. Oh, yes, I said it. (You really think anything's going to be aired live from London anyway? They're five hours ahead, which, yeah, doesn't exactly match up with our prime-time viewing schedule, which is where they always air the big events. I, being the sports dork that I am, would've probably still watched, but most certainly not if you're pulling Abed and Co. off my screen for good.)

Now, I wouldn't do this for just any show. You know how picky I am. But Community is one of the smartest things on television, and not in a pretentious, high-brow sort of way. More like in a "How many pop-culture references can we throw out there and the payoff will be awesome" sort of way. And I get it - it's not for everyone. If you weren't raised on TV and haven't vegged out in front of enough movies on cable to notice patterns and have things stay with you, you're not going to get this show. But to me, that's the beauty of it. Seeing a character dressed like, hell, limp-drag his leg exactly like John McClane in Die Hard, or use chicken fingers for a Goodfellas homage (seriously) is much funnier than, say, more "Men and women exist merely to exasperate each other...amiright?" schtick. And it has a big heart and sense of childlike wonder (blanket fort city, anyone?) that's quite fulfilling. And, like the other NBC comedies I've enjoyed over the years, it doesn't need a laugh track to tell you when something is funny. You're allowed to make up your own mind about it. Maybe I'm wrong but the network kind of pioneered that sort of thing and I always appreciated them for it. Well, until tonight, I guess.

Sure, maybe the network thinks I'm all talk. But they obviously don't know that I've given up my interleague play tickets every year because I boycotted THAT shizz back in 1997; that I haven't visited a certain website in almost a year because it insulted my place of employment (and I don't miss it); that I canceled a checking and savings account with a certain bank because they laid off my father. In other words, I can be unmoving as all get-out - for long periods of time, no less - when I feel strongly about something.

So, try me, NBC. Maybe I'm just one viewer...but then I don't think you can stand to lose that many more these days, can you?

Why Suits is Climbing High on My Flove List

2011-11-12T22:07:00.000-05:00

It's entertaining, the leads are easy on the eyes, and, yeah, for this exchange alone:

"We're based in Boston."

"So are the Red Sox, and I don't give a s*** about them, either."

A show after my own heart, I think.

Let's See How This Goes

2011-11-12T21:53:00.000-05:00

Back to Blogger. At least if there's ads on my posts, I'm, like, making money off them (but I don't think I'm doing that, so, whatever)