Things We Love (To Hate) about 24

Jack Bauer is at it again, saving the world one foiled terrorist attack at a time. This season, he's got help from Freddie Prinze Jr., who has managed to pick up a horribly executed 'Brooklyn' accent. While it's semi-exciting that Day 8 takes place at NYC landmarks like the United Nations and the Brooklyn Bridge, the plot, as always, is like one big deja vu of seasons 1 through 7.

Don't you just hate it when an informant shows up at your door with knowledge of an assassination that he can't tell anyone until he's just about dead?? Yea, me too. Either way, I'm inexplicably drawn to this series and all its grossly predictable elements.

1) No one ever believes Jack Bauer is a good guy. Honestly, how many more times does he have to prove his loyalty to the United States? Shouldn't everyone know who he is before they taser him??

2) Chloe's priceless faces of constipation, er, consternation?

3) The character with the shady past. (Oh yea, that's everyone.) This season I'm particularly intrigued by Dana Walsh (AKA: Jenny?) and her obviously fucked up relationship with Kevin. Spoiler alert: Highly unlikely that her engagement will survive the day.

4) Jack's sachel. (It's cool, Indiana Jones wears one... I bet he has skittles in there.)

5) Jack's "retirement" from this line of government work. Who does this guy think he is, Brett Favre?

6) The "someone on the inside." Seriously? Does anyone do a background check before hiring a mole with ties to the Russian mob to be the President's Chief of Staff?

7) The return of former characters. I'm especially pumped for Renee 2.0 who has managed to reinvent her image to an evil version of herself (as evidenced by her using a circular saw to dismember a Russian, whereas last season she actually cried about Jack's insensitivity.)

8) CTU's new sweet digs: an underground fortress that appears to be a combination of Area 51 and the Batcave. Overkill: everyone wearing a bluetooth headset at all times.

9) The presence of a nuclear weapon, biochemical warfare, bombs in need of dismantling, etc. etc.

10) Jack's overly aggressive interrogation tactics because "there just isn't enough time!" (Obviously the 24 drinking game would include consuming a beverage every time Jack uttered any variation of this phrase.)

LOST (their friends)

Final Season Of 'Lost' Promises To Make Fans More Annoying Than Ever

Fist Pump at Sutton Place!

Who: The Guido who stole our hearts with the Blowout 101 How-To Video.

What: Inciting fist pumping riots with his mad spinning skillz.

When: Saturday, January 23rd - 10pm

Where: Sutton Place, NYC (if you don't know where Sutton Place is, you can't possibly call yourself a NYer.)

Additional Details:
DJ Pauly D, with the impossibly sculpted hair, spins 11 p.m.-1 a.m. The Jersey Shore theme party, organized by two “real Jersey Shore girls” publicist Kate Laufer and Danielle Petitti, promises “plenty of fist pumping” and drink specials by jagermeister.
RSVP to SuttonGoesJersey@gmail.com. Cover: $10.


“Jersey Shore attire” is required... Translation: All you B&T peeps need not modify your wardrobe to attend the sloppiest night 2nd ave has ever seen.

A Follow Up from the Department of the Obvious

Earlier on in the blog I mused about 'news' articles and studies that reported punch-you-in-the-face-obvious information. Well folks, that level of stellar journalism* continues in this second edition of SHIT YOU ALREADY KNOW!

*Speaking of stellar journalism, congratulations to Fox News for signing Sarah Palin. The blogging community thanks you for continued efforts in providing us with 'dontchya know' and 'youbetchya' material to ridicule.

Now on to the "real" news....

The Conference Board surveyed 5,000 Americans to determine that the majority of them are dissatisfied with their jobs. I find this statistic shocking considering I so look forward to the 9 hours I spend every single day behind my desk in the hell that is corporate America. In fact, I can't recall a single complaint I've ever had about my job...

On a similar note, I bet you never would have guessed that people feel better on the weekends! Take your time with this one, I realize this brand new information may be overwhelming, but it's true! An article in the January 2010 issue of the Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology asserts that "men and women alike consistently feel better mentally and physically on the weekend." I wonder if it has anything to do with less alarm clocks and more booze...

And just in time for 2010... the "hidden" benefits of exercise. Are you sitting down for this one? Studies show that moderate exercise actually makes you a healthier person. That's right folks, regular physical activity can help fight off colds and flu, reduce the risk of certain cancers and chronic diseases, slow the process of aging, maintain a healthy weight, AND reduce stress. (I bet these results are from the same scientists who have recently confirmed that cigarettes are bad for you.)

If you've decided you're ready to hit the gym with wisdom I've just imparted, think again. Realistically, you might as well re-bury your running sneakers in the back of your closet because you and your new years resolutions are doomed for failure. (Please feel free to make use of the comment section if you do NOT fall in the club of the 78% of unsuccessful people.)

Moving on to a real shocker from the sports community: Mark Mcgwire used steroids to help make him the home run king. Apparently, "the explosion in home runs coincides with a mid-1990s "steroid era" in professional sports." Hmmm... ya don't say.

And my personal favorite (on the tails of my last rant about technology) an article asserting that the dating scene in NYC has changed dramatically in the last 20 years. Phew, good thing I found this article because this whole time I had been waiting for my Prince Charming to sweep me off my feet on the top of the Empire State Building on Valentines Day (there's a chance I just watched Sleepless in Seattle).

To summarize the new process: meet a guy at a bar (where alcohol lubricates the interaction), exchange names & numbers (in your smart phone, of course), then Facebook the gentlemen suitor while waiting for that brave soul to send a text. It's all just so romantic. (In case my sarcasm isn't apparent, I think texting is form of communication that should be used sparingly between potential mates, at least in the beginning stages.)

That's all I've got for now. You're welcome for the insights.

New Year, New Technology

I love (most) old people. I used to think I was afraid of aging, but I've come to terms with the fact that some day I will have gray hair, wrinkly skin, and boobs that point down instead of nipples that could poke you in the eye. None of that scares me (too much).

What I'm really afraid of is becoming one of those bitter senior citizens who talk about "kids today and their newfangled technology." I've already caught myself scoffing at Twitter users (mostly because I have no idea what purpose it serves), I still think print books are far superior to a Kindle (that's probably the librarian in me), and up until yesterday I resisted getting a Blackberry because of the comfort level I had achieved with my mobile device of 2 years.


Well thanks to the incredibly convincing and overeager salesman at the Sprint store, my father (one of the most frugal men I've ever met) was miraculously convinced to upgrade his plan. As such, my sister and I were entitled to our choice of smart phones - a term I've come to whole-heartedly disagree with as I feel nothing but stupid when I attempt to operate said phone.


When asked about my progress in the last day, I could not help but spew my frustration to other crackberry users.

First of all, every time I turn around the stupid red light is blinking, alerting me to some incoming message. On my old phone the "1 missed alert" message used to excite me as I wondered who could have called or texted. (Odds are it was someone I was avoiding, but still.) Now, all I feel is dread. My home screen seems to be perpetually filled with tiny little asterisks and envelopes... none of which I understand.

Did I just receive a text? an e-mail? a Facebook message? has someone BBM'd me??
(Is our generation really making BBM'd a verb???)

On top of all that, this thing makes more noises than a horny farm animal. This morning I woke up to some horrid sound that too closely resembled a foghorn and resulted in me practically falling out of my bed (sadly, this wouldn't be the first time I face planted on my bedroom floor). Yesterday, I let the phone ring for 10 minutes because I was so unfamiliar with the tone that I assumed it was my neighbor's TV on its highest volume.

Moreover, I've somehow managed to download the Pandora application, which apparently incurs additional data charges - so much for my "all inclusive package."

I've inadvertently signed into AIM - a program that I haven't used since 2003 - so if you've IMed me recently without a response, blame the berry.

Lastly, I'm annoyed to an unhealthy level about the redundancy of having to clear alerts for e-mails that I've already read on my computer.

I suppose the moral of the story is that payback's a bitch. Clearly, I should have had more patience with the elderly people in my life as they attempted to master the technology they were forced to adopt.

I can honestly say that I understand how my German grandmother felt the first time she encountered a microwave. She stared at the appliance in such a perplexed state you would have thought she was trying to cure cancer right there in her kitchen. In retrospect, I wish I hadn't been such a sassy 7-year old when I hopped up on my step-stool and showed her how it operated.

I'd also like to apologize to the old man in front of me at Pathmark who couldn't quite grasp the concept of the self-checkout registers. (Unfortunately, while I'm sure I could have been of more assistance, I still believe you should have an actual person ring you up to save us all time.)

On a similar note, next time my mother calls me at work panicked that she "lost" the memo she was working on, I'm going calmly assure her that there is no such thing as a mystical black hole of documents on her computer, and help her retrieve it (snickers aside). (I'm also going to start charging her for providing personal IT consulting services).

As for my Dad, I don't think there's enough patience in the world to watch him two-finger hunt-and-peck his way around a keyboard when drafting his brother an e-mail. I'll probably just offer to be his scribe.

And as for me, well, I've turned the blackberry off and put it in my desk drawer for a time-out. Maybe tomorrow I'll be ready to sit down and learn the damn thing without the urge to throw it out the 35th floor window of my office building.

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