When Conan finally moved to hosting duties for the ‘Tonight Show,’ we immediately set a PVR series recording. I fear now it’s people exactly like us that are the reason for his demise. Unless Nielsen ratings are super smart, and logged correctly when we would spend a good chunk of of an evening catching up on the genius that was his reincarnation of this old unfunny logjam that Leno had culturally and comedically run into the rocks. I’m sure everybody knows what happened, if not see here, but ultimately Conan chose to take the televisonally-moral high road and bow out of the whole mess. Yes, he received a compensation package in numbers most of us will never see, and it’s not like lives were destroyed here. But, you know when you watch someone truly doing what they were meant to do? Even if it’s a bank teller being really fucking good at counting your bills back at you, or an elementary school teacher who has angelic handwriting and knows when you need to take a thumbsucking timeout in the cloak room? That was the pleasure of watching Conan host all the years prior on ‘Late Night,’ and the few months he got do this show. I don’t know what he’s like off screen, and that’s really none of my business. What matters is someone who was very good at what they do got unceremoniously forced out the back door. The part of all this that made me want to even throw in the 8,000th comment, was watching the last show and listening to him say these words. I loved him before this, and I double triple loved him after. And openly wept and cursed NBC and treasured the last few episodes we have left to watch on the PVR. Thank you for the amazing, albeit short, ride Conan. I wish I didn’t have to get off.
Is this a Vancouver thing? Seriously, in a building we pay high rent to live in, you would think the tap water, and the ice we make from it, would not TASTE AND SMELL EXACTLY LIKE FISH BLOOD. Why don’t we buy store bought ice? Because paying for somebody else to make ice is stupid and lazy. Why don’t I use filtered water to make the ice? Because pouring water from a 100 lb Brita pitcher into 12 teeny tiny squares can be a huge bitch, and really, tap water should not have a taste. Didn’t David Suzuki or some other bearded nature man assure us tap water is fine; that bottled water is the snake oil of our generation? Well, Suzuki, you need to smell our drinks. Many a fun cocktail or serious scotch has been soured by the odour that wafts up as you raise a tinkling glass to your lips. Indeed, this sour-patch-making elixir is the worst thing I’ve smelled this week.
I’ve been digging baths a whole lot lately. Which is weird, because I can’t swim and water in general terrifies me. But, there is no better bedtime prep than running a hot bath with scented bubbles and laying in there with a shitty magazine and two steaming knees poking out of the water. (If anybody has a bathtub that is long enough for them to fully stretch out, toes to ponytail, I hate you / Can I come over and try it out?) My love for baths started when I was little, first when Mom would join me, and then get out, leaving me with 2 tbs of water to kick around in and a physics lesson about water displacement; then it became a home spa for Barbies, because even though they’re completely synthetic and destroyed my self-worth, bathing them and their honey blonde tresses was part of my childhood duties. (See also: teaching all my Cabbies the alphabet; hurting my brother and getting away with it; eating half of an angel food cake in one sitting.) Over the years, I have brought stereos into the bathroom (far far away from the tub Mom! I don’t need a phone call about this.) I have eaten, drank, and smoked while mostly submersed in liquid. I have stuffed washcloths into that “safety opening” so that I can actually get the water high enough to make it completely and dangerously level with the edge of the tub. I have even dunked my whole head and face even though I still need to manually plug my nose, lest I inhale the entire tub up through my nostrils. The best thing though, and most mermaid-ish if I may, is draining the tub, and laying in there until the last suds get sucked down the drain. The feeling of the last inch of water disappearing has a ticklish, almost pulling you down the drain feeling, which sounds creepy, but I promise isn’t. It’s the best thing I felt this week.
Hands up for sometimes needing that eye-watering fizzy drink, even if just for one solid gulp. (Final transformation into my Mother = COMPLETE! She used to buy a can of pop for just the first sip; me and my brother then got to wrestle for who finished it.) Today I wanted, nay, needed, that bubbly sugary rush to the face. But I didn’t want Old Faithful Coke. (Besides he’s too busy being stealthily slid up Vancouver’s Olympic ass right now. Everywhere you look – COKE!) Nope, today required his second nerdy cousin, root beer. Barq’s. Even with the shitty ice, it is the best thing I’ve tasted this week. That makes me either very white trash-tastebudded or endearingly simple.
Occasionally I go through a stage where I don’t want to (and you can’t make me) listen to new music. Sometimes I find it exhausting, having to be very present and aware, judging and listening to new strange songs that don’t love you yet and are mostly just noise for the first few listens. That’s how sophisticated my ears are. It typically takes a good five listens for songs to be my friends. There are exceptions to this. Sometimes I’ll hear something and immediately and instantly fall in love. Off the top of my head, examples are the first Eagles of Death Metal album, and the first time I heard The White Stripes, Rancid and Andrew W.K. About two years ago my friend Ali told me to listen to the Coconut Records album ‘Nighttiming.’ This is all I’ve wanted to listen to lately. A few sweet ballads, mixed in with some stadium-sized songs, and everything in between. It is front to back, so satisfyingly catchy and wonderful, and so easy to fall in love with. The reason this is so goddamn good is Coconut Records is Jason Schwartzman. Further proof the guy can do no wrong at any time.
