David Duchovny, I wish you would fuck me (even now)

I don't know what to make of this whole Sarah Palin fiasco, particularly the baby conspiracy that is straight out of a VC Andrews novel. I don't just mean the fact that her 17 y/o daughter is pregnant - I'm talking about the theory that Palin's newborn, Trig, may in fact be the progeny of her eldest daughter, Bristol, and the pregnancy debacle occurring now is all meant to cover-up the REAL pregnancy that happened a few months ago. Yes, click the link, Cajun Boy explains it so much better and in-depth than I.

I'm done thinking about all this Palin baby-drama (though this has really upped the ante as far as politico-family scandals go, no?). Now we will move onto to an even more DEEELISH scandal that has me all aflutter.

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Oh what sexual sparks this pic alone awakens...

The first time I can remember laying eyes on David Duchovny - I was 11-years-old and spending a Friday evening at my grandmother's house. The television flickered pale blue against the walls, a background accompaniment to the board game my sister and I were playing. A commercial came on; I looked up from the game, maybe because of the eerie music playing from the set. There, on the television screen, were a woman and man looking earnest, running to something, or away from it. They were cloaked in trench coats; they were searching. The commercial bade me to stay tuned for the premiere of a new FOX series, The X-Files.

The man in particular captivated me. I was only 11, but something was stirring - my imagination? My loins? Probably both. I tuned into the premiere and learned that this man played the male lead in The X-Files, Fox Mulder. The actor playing Mulder was David Duchovny, and I was in love.

From that day out, I was an avid X-File fan, and a precocious Duchovny lover. While most of the girls my age were googly-eyed for boys like JTT and Andrew Keegan, I was tuning in every Friday night (then later, Sundays), and watching as Fox Mulder (a man) cavorted with Jersey Devils, clandestine informants, Satan-worshipers, and of course, little gray men. Mulder was in search of the truth, a truth that was constantly being hidden by the government. And goddamn did he look for it in the sexiest way possible!

During my time as an X-Phile, I procured a rather large and diverse collection of memorabilia. Shirts, books, magazines, buttons, pogs - if it had something to do with The X-Files and David Duchovny, I owned it. I would have been a nerd* if The X-Files wasn't beloved by everyone else in my class, too - but no one loved it and Duchovny as much as me.

At night as I drifted off to sleep, Mulder and I would search for the truth together. We would meet by surprise - we had known each other during our FBI training and had shared a brief, passionate tryst. Since Scully was sick from the flu, Mulder would need a savvy professional to assist him on his next investigation, and I would grudgingly pinch hit (grudgingly because that's what makes for the best sexual tension. Did I mention I was also a 5'10" redhead? My fantasies were vivid AND drunk). Though we would be on assignment, our lust would overcome us, and inevitably...well, inevitably I'd start making out with my pillow. But anyways, this foray into my childhood fantasies is to say ZOMG I fucking loved David Duchovny and he is the only celebrity I ever truly pined for.

But here we are in 2008. These days, I pine for my bf (really!) And though Duchovny has been married for the past decade, turns out he's pining for lots of internet pornography. Turns out he's a sex addict!

I'm kind of turned on by him again after this revelation. Yeah, I know that's kind of skanky to say, but compound this real-life sex addiction with the charisma of his Californication character, Hank Moody - it's making me nostalgic for the days when I was a horny adolescent.

I leave you with a video that I saw only a few days ago - it sums up how I (and I guess everyone else) felt about David Duchovny in the 90's.

* Ok, I was probably a raging nerd.

Quick Post: Songs I'm lurving

I try not to gush over bands or music I've recently discovered. I refrain from doing so because, whenever I'm reading a blog and the author posts a video or music clip, I never, ever take the time to listen. It's time consuming, and the chances of me actually liking the song or video are about 5%. Also, I am probably the last to even 'discover' this music. Odds are the comments will turn into one big thread of "these songs are SO two weeks ago."

But because I'm excited to be seeing them in October (along with my other favorite musician, Beck), I've been listening to a lot of MGMT, and I just thought I'd share a song with my readers. Their album, Oracular Spectacular, has been playing non-stop on my cd player, and this tune, "Future Reflections," has had me hitting the rewind button. Hope you enjoy!




Oh, you want a bonus? How about this one from Panic! At the Disco called "When the Day Met the Night"

If only he weren't a scientologist...

Do any Beck fans read this blog? I'm a big Beck fan, despite the fact that an annoying ex-boyfriend, for whom I only have disdainful memories, introduced me to him.

Ok, he didn't introduce me - show me a person who's never heard Loser, and I'll show you my tits - but the first time I ever heard Sea Change (one of the best albums ever made), it was because of my ex.

I've been trying to build up my cd collection. Some may say compact disks are an ancient format, but I want a tangible form of music to pass onto my children. How do you share a moment with your child over an MP3 downloaded from iTunes? Also, the inserts, brimming with lyrics, liner notes, and artwork - the only thing that can match what you get with a cd is a record, and I can't download that to my computer and put it on my iPod. So you see...? Cds continue to be relevant in my book.

When I was a kid, I'd sit and go through my parents' modest cd collection, reading all the inserts and delicately studying the cover art (as a deeply religious child, this cover simultaneously confused and titillated me. Oy, if only my eight-year-old self knew the woman I'd become). Their library consisted of a lot of ZZ Top, Robert Palmer, Meatloaf, and Roxette. Eh, maybe they didn't have the best musical tastes, but it nonetheless helped create in me a deep love for music and music trivia (1960-Present. Don't ask me any questions about Handel or John Phillips Sousa).

My point: I like music, a lot, and only after seeing people who are "meh" about it do I realize that a love for music is not a given trait. I attribute part of my music appreciation to the fact that my parents always had something playing on the radio, and cared about it enough to invest in it by buying their preferred artists' work. So I would like to do the same for my children.

That was an ENORMOUS digression. Sorry. The real point of this post is to recommend Beck's new album, Modern Guilt. At this point in Beck's career, I'm convinced he can't disappoint. He's a genius, and who'da thunk? Maybe Loser was genius when it came out, but I don't know, as a seven-year-old it sounded like a silly ditty that used a funny language.

I'm not pretentious enough to try to compare this new Beck album to another artist's oeuvre, nor am I going to pick it apart and lament new Beck vs. old Beck like some Pitchfork-reading douche. I'm just going to say that I like it, and you should check it out:



I'm also recommending MGMT's album Oracular Spectacular.

Listicle Time: The Top Six Kids Shows that I had No Right to be Watching

So there are plenty of kids shows out there meant for the enjoyment of children and adults alike. SpongeBob SquarePants is the main one that comes to mind, but you can look at any Pixar film and see that what I say is true - shows for kids have evolved since Hanna-Barbera.

But you know what? When I was younger, there were some kids shows that were really, actually, just meant for kids. And I continued to watch them well after the appropriate age, in part for kitsch value, and in part because I couldn't. stop. watching. There I was, a fifteen year old who had by most means let go of everything that connected her to childhood; the barbie dolls, footie pajamas, and stuffed animals all sat in a damp trunk in the basement. Yet I would watch these kids shows, all the while my thumb was stealthily on the "LAST" button should my sister walk in the room and I need to do a quick switch to TRL or some other "teenage" show (this skill would later prove useful while watching Real Sex with my mom in the next room). Below are some of the kids shows I watched way past my expiration date.

Doug

Great theme song. Inventive character names (Mosquito, anyone?). Fabulous wardrobe. And an anthropomorphic dog - how could you not love Doug? Nematoads! The Beets! Childhood, where are you?

Doug was one of those cartoons that I never admitted to watching, nor even made time to watch, but whatever station it was playing on (Nickelodeon, usually), that's the station I was tuned in to. My sweaty, smelly, 15- y/o self would traipse home from volleyball practice, grab a ho-ho and a glass of pop, and plop down on the couch to watch Doug Funny endure the trials and tribulations of adolescence. Since I was technically older than Doug (therefore wiser), I would sympathetically nod my head when he worried over how he looked in his school picture - I knew exactly how he felt, because, at one time, I too worried about how I looked in my school picture! Oh but wait, I still was worrying how I would look, and not just in my school picture, but in EVERY picture. I still worry to this day, but at least now I have the freedom to drink away my body-dismorphia . Yay alcoholism!

When it moved to the Saturday morning cartoon timeslot, Doug's shorts became longer and the show got lame. But the Doug memories of my youth cannot be touched - er, so long as I don't get brain damaged somehow (prime reason to stop doing drugs!).

Rugrats

What evil genius thought that kids above the age of 8 (let alone 14) would love this gem of a show? I'm betting the pitch wasn't that easy.

"I propose we make a show about babies!"

"But we're aiming for the 8-12 demographic."

"No shit - don't you know how cool babies are? They do a ton of crazy stuff when the grown-ups aren't looking. They are so cool that 12-year-olds - wait, nix that - 15-year-olds will want to be them."

Ok, maybe I never wanted to be Tommy, Chuckie, Angelica or any of the rest of the gang, but I did wear a Burger King Edition Rugrats watch when I was in the 9th grade (though I might have been trying to be - gulp - ironic).

Looking back, I'm slightly afraid that those of us who grew up with Rugrats have picked up parenting cues from the show, to which I say, lord have mercy on us all. Ever notice how often the parents in Rugrats ignored their kids? They would corral them in the backyard and leave them unattended for hours. That is when all the adventures happened, when the kids were alone, and there was an adventure every episode - that tells me that, were the Rugrats parents real people, they'd have been taken to court by CPS ages ago.


Wishbone

A confession: I have not read every classic that ever existed. Gah, I know! I'm a dolt. But sometimes these classics will come up in conversation, books like Rip Van Winkle and Don Quixote, and the reason why I know what these stories are about is because of Wishbone! Well, he's not the only reason, but Wishbone was my first introduction to classics which are thoroughly studied and often referenced.

Maybe it was because Wishbone was another anthropomorphic dog, but I'd tune in day after day, despite the fact that I was a teenager with sex readily available to her (I didn't lose it til I was 18, but I'm assuming that at least one of my classmates would have been willing to do the deed with me). While my classmates were making babies, I was sitting innocently in my living room humming the Wishbone theme song.

One time my sister - my younger sister, mind you - caught me watching Wishbone. This was a watershed moment for me - I had the choice to quickly change the channel and pretend I was just flipping, thus denying who I was, or I could toss the remote aside and proudly let the little dog show off his acting chops to my sister. I did the latter - I chose to be myself. My dumb, easily amused self. My sis made fun of me for watching a kids show, but it wasn't that big of a deal - I was older with the adroit ability to beat the shit out of her.

Arthur

Wow, this list is getting long. So yeah, I was a big fan of Arthur when I was 15, even moreso than when I was 8. I think because of the utopic society it represents. The more I think about that, the more it makes sense - I was kind of depressed as a teen, and instead of taking Prozac or cutting myself, I watched Arthur. Also, DW was my hero.

Can we please for a second ruminate on this picture? That's Arthur posing with a celebrity, an A-list celebrity. Can you guess who? Here's a hint: I used to have a slight crush on this actor, except now that I've seen him as a cartoon chipmunk, I'm horrified. Did that help?

Blues Clues

Ok, I'm not saying this is true, but I may or may not have had a crush on Steve. Whether I did or not is moot, though - I liked watching Blues Clues because of the fact that a human being was walking in a paper-machet house and interacting with a cardboard dog. The trickery fascinated me - like, how did they do that? I know, I know, green screen and whatnot, but the fact that a human person was acting on a set that he couldn't even see was mind-boggling (except for that huge orange chair - I'm pretty sure that was a tangible part of the set). Not only did he have to have a conversation with salt and pepper shakers, but he couldn't SEE the salt and pepper shakers. Truly astounding.

Teletubbies

This show I watched for pure kitsch value. Seriously. It would all go down thusly: In high school, my friend Carrie's dad would get us lunch, so me and about three or four of my other girlfriends would go to her house, flop our asses on her sofa, and mow down on some Taco Bell while these four aliens blazed across the television screen.

I hated this show, but my friend Leanna thought they were cute, so we'd put it on the screen and make fun of it while Leanna drooled over the little one (Po). Teletubbies earned some points in my book when Christian fundamentalists started getting all angry that the purple one was promoting homosexuality to kids. The Teletubbies were way too androgynous for me to discern a gender, let alone a sexual preference, but it was funny to see the Funds holding up signs of protest and marching in the street over something so stupid. Way to be a rebel, Tinky-Winky. Screw DW - Tinky is my hero now.

The Perry Bible Fellowship

Am I the last to know about The Perry Bible Fellowship? Slut Machine included a comic strip in a Jezebel post a couple months back, and when I followed the link, I damn near read about every strip. Here are some of my favorites:

I wish I could draw hilarious - yet adorable - comic strips! Ah well, one thing at a time Marcie.

You cannot hide your mired past from me, reality star!

Ugh, my landlord just let me into my apartment after being locked out for 2.5 hours. It sucked balls, mainly because I had to do a #2, and I didn't want to do it in my bf's apartment while his roomie was there. See, I do have a little shame.

But the bright side is that, in my boredom, I watched an episode of Beauty and the Geek - not the first time I'd ever seen it, but the first I'd seen from this season.

I was struck by the fact that this time around, not all the beauties were female, and not all the geeks were male. Allow me to demonstrate:

Nicole, Female Geek:


















Sam, Male Beauty:

















Novel idea! (sorta) But as I watched, Sam kept making me think that I've seen him somewhere before. The Beauty and the Geek site lists him as a club promoter, but his face was too familiar, like I knew him in a different life...

And then it hit me (note: I did not see all the episodes, and maybe his previous career was broached in one of them, but if not - Sam, I know your secret!)

Does anyone remember the Disney movie Brink! ? It was about this kid who was a tubular rollerblader, and in an effort to help his family financially, he joined the rival "sponsored" team, headed by his arch-nemesis Val.

Please tell me someone remembers this movie. I think I was like 14 or some shit when it aired on the Disney Channel. Well who do you think played the obnoxious scumbag Val? None other than Sam Horrigan, who's very same IMDB picture in the one shown of beautiful Sam above.

Sam the Beauty is actually an actor with many credits to his name. Guess where else I recognized him from? He played the son on Grace Under Fire. Yeah! Just check out the IMDB page that I linked above.

Hmm, it just occurred to me that no one probably gives a shit about my discovery. And I'd use a Brink! quote to illustrate how I feel about your apathy, but none of you would get it and you'd further think that I'm a retard. Humph! So I won't. Way to rain on my parade!

PS Big meeting tomorrow - the producer and I are meeting with an actual hypnotherapist. Oh yeah, and I got a free Capricorn key chain today. I think I'm gonna make a buck (literally) and sell it on ebay.

When rabid dogs take over the world, only one man can save us...

I'm not trying to denigrate Cesar Milan - his contributions to the dog community and humanity are infinite.

But who was the photographer that imagined the post-apocalyptic dog hell pictured here? Whoever came up with this concept is the next Stephen King I tell ya. Really, if this were a movie poster, I'd totally see it in the theater. They should have used this advert for that wretched Costner movie, The Postman.

And how did they get that blonde dog on the left airborn? Did they put him in a slingshot?

And the dog in the background on the right...why is he just chillin when all the other dogs are freaking out?

My questions may never be answered, but I thought I'd share his DVD cover with you, since it had me giggling for a good 5 minutes.

And a bonus: More dreamy pics of Cesar!

Swoon!

Work it, you Bitchy Brute!

Ladies and gentlemen, you are welcome for today's installment of hot Latin, dog-loving eye candy.

The 12 y/o Boy inside Me rears his music tastes

Ew, I hope I didn't break any decency laws with that title.

Anywho, have you guys seen that awesome GTA: Liberty City commercial? Well I have, and I'm now obsessed with the song in the commercial, "Vagabond" by the Greenskeepers.

It doesn't really make sense that a 24 y/o lady such as myself would be into a song used to sell a video game, but it's got a sinister vibe, and I'm all about that (I used to be a HUGE fan of that Smiths song "How Soon is Now," then Charmed cheapened it. Shannon Doherty ruins everything!)

For a listen, click here.

Update on my play

My play, When Turtles Fly, opens in about a week. IF anyone reading this is interested, it's playing June 11 and 12 at the 78th St Theatre Lab (236 West 78th St, NYC). The festival starts at 8 pm, and you can get tickets at http://www.theatervision-playtime.com/



I went to a rehearsal for the play this past Sunday, and I was thrilled at what I saw - it's really something to see a piece of work you penned brought to life - like, actors were speaking and living the dialogue I wrote. Not to be too sentimental, but my heart swelled when I saw this. It's just a small form of validation, I guess.



The play will be great when the actors get completely off-book....yeah. I now know how every director I ever had must have felt when his/her actors were struggling with lines. Like, it's so close, it could be so good if these motherfucking actors would get their heads out of the clouds and remember this goddamn stuff. As a former actor, I can empathize, but I also know from experience that memorizing 20 pages worth of dialogue in two hours is entirely possible.



After the rehearsal, the director and I met and cut some more of the play. Here's the sitch: When I originally sent my play to TheaterVision, the company that is putting my play on, they intimated that they were looking for one-act scripts between 30 min and an hour long. I knew mine fell just short of 60 minutes in length, so I sent it to them.



They are now telling the director that my play, which at it's very shortest and speediest can only be performed within 45 minutes, that it can go no longer than 30 minutes. Not to mention, the director has had to eat a lot of the costs for the rehearsal space fees, and is constantly bothered by TheaterVision seeking updates on the day-to-day minutia of the play's production. At $20 a pop for tickets, TheaterVision is reaping a tidy sum on the performance of the three one-acts together (my play is part of a festival - two other one-acts will be performed the same nights).

Apart from pairing the writers with the directors, covering the fee of the spaces on the nights of the performance, and some minor publicity, I really don't know what role TheaterVision is playing, but whatever. Oh yeah, I almost forgot: I got invites printed up for the play, with the intention of inviting agents, and then I found out that I can't use them unless they have been approved by TheaterVision, and have their logo on them. Sooo, guess I won't be sending those bad-boys out to any people who can influence my career! That sucks!

What was I talking about? Oh yes, so the play can't exceed 30 minutes. We cut out some more dialogue, but odds are the play will run 45 minutes. But what can they do? Once it goes up, it goes up, and there's no way they can stop it from completion.

But let's focus on the positive. My director, Christopher Cohen, is really smart and innovative. He's my age, but I can see already that he has a promising career as a director ahead of him (despite his refusal to take my advice on a prop - if you're reading this Chris, you should know that my direction of a scene from Cowboy Mouth earned me an A in Intro to Directing! I know a thing or two about this thing you call directing!) Also: According to Chris, looks like there was a scramble amongst the TheaterVision directors to take on my script - during an initial orientation with the directors and actors, the actors got to talking, and when my actors expressed that they were doing When Turtles Fly, all the other actors and directors whined that that was the play they were hoping to get slotted with.

Did you guys follow that story? Maybe if I explained the whole TheaterVision process and how my play got a director, you'd comprehend what I am talking about....meh, but I don't feel like it.

Sorry if this post was completely incoherent, but I have a lot on my mind (oh yeah, and I'm at work, blogging on my boss's dime - makes me nervous and quick to wrap things up).

More later!

Who'd have thought - I had a really good time at a club brimming with hipsters

Last night I went to Southpaw, a club in Park Slope, Brooklyn, that made me want to purchase a teener just so I'd fit in with the cokey, hipster crowd. Or maybe so I'd be able to tolerate the cokey, hipster crowd.

Instead of snorting a bunch of rat poison up my nose, I drank Bud Lite and Red Bull (I don't think Red Bull tastes good, nor do I think that Red Bull is "cool" and has any form of cache, but these days, it's hard for me to stay up past 1 am without some sort of energizing drug). As I drank, I started to get loose and have a good time, and then the bands started playing, and I actually began to feel like a 24 y/o, instead of a 50 y/o post-menopausal woman trapped in a 24 y/o's body.

I have never blogged about a band I have seen at a club because A) I am not a music critic, and B) Who the fuck really cares what bands I have seen and think are awesome? No. One. Or maybe someone does; I dunno, I've never asked.

But I'm breaking that tradition by reporting to you on two musicians I saw at Southpaw, one fantastic, and the other so mind-blowingly tubular and geigh-tastic that to not write about them would be a travesty.

First, the former. Yo Majesty is a dykealicious rapper who's snatch I wanted to mow down on as soon as she came onstage. Seriously. The vitality and passion emanating from her was hard not to fall in love with. All the lesbians pushed their way to the front when she stepped onto the stage, and all the chicks went crazy when she rapped about "That kryptonite pussy." I'm not a big hip-hop fan, but I became a believer in the female presence in hip-hop after seeing Yo Majesty jump around onstage and spit lyrics that made me forget myself. It was a gleeful, powerful atmosphere she created.

I backed out of the crowd when a lesbian in front of me kept shooting me dirty looks. Seems my raucous dancing caused me to keep bumping into her girl - my bad.

And then there was Supahero Gogo Starz. How to describe them...? Well, when they first came on the stage, no one knew what the fuck was going on. Or maybe it was just me - I often mistake avant-garde innovative things for being really retarded and a waste of my time. Their entire schtick seemed like a huge joke: Two black guys, channeling the likes of RuPaul and David Bowie, and not really singing, but more like talking in pitch, lyrics discussing I don't even know what. They crawled and creeped around the stage, one of them wearing a pink fro wig, the other decked out in glam-rock sunglasses and a bandana.

But their fabulosity grew on me. Their futuristic sound, coupled with the flamboyant garb, was a breath of fresh oxygen, as well as somewhat nostalgic. I don't know how I can be nostalgic for a time I never even lived in, but their set made me think of a 1970's circa New York, when glam and disco, gayness and Paris is Burning, sex and excess ruled the scene. I can't say I'm gung-ho for hedonism, but that is a time we may never get back, and part of me wishes I hadn't missed out.

After the set, my bf and I saw Supahero Gogo Starz outside smoking. He snapped a pic of me with them, but alas, I do not possess the necessary tools to extract it from my phone. Maybe I'll post it later, when I have the money and time to buy phone accessories destined for the landfill.

I Like it - I like it a lot

In an effort to make this blog as self-centered as possible, I have compiled a list of some of my favorite things. Ever.

The Doors Cover of Van Morrison's Gloria

If you ever want to delight in a rock song that is overly sexual and just plain disgusting, check out this version of Gloria. Originally written and recorded by Van Morrison's band, Them, in 1964, The Doors later covered it in concert and shattered any sexual subtlety that Van Morrison imbued in the song.

In the concert recording, Mr. Mojo Risin (Jim Morrison's alter-ego for all you squares who might not know) begins the song in its written fashion and stays true to the lyrics. But as the song continues and the band improvises, Morrison takes the song to overtly sexual, then perverse, then "oh my god is he really singing that?" levels.

Lyrics like, "I'm gonna eat you honey," and "I'm gonna rip you in two," combined with the band members yelling "Suck it!" in the background, further combined with odd noises that can only be described as the sound a deaf-mute retard would make while getting a blow job, make this song something to be relished. I recommend popping this in your car CD player on a warm day with the windows rolled down, and then driving through neighborhoods where old people live. Ahh, to be sixteen again!



Driving in the Middle Lane

There was a point in time when driving was second nature to me. But then I moved from Ohio to Brooklyn, the land of public transport. Now, something that was once so simple can be a daunting task due to the fear that can consume you when you're on the road with a bunch of impatient, thoughtless motorists.

But never fear - the middle lane is your best friend. The left lane is full of assholes who get pissed if you drive a hair under 80 mph, and the right lane could turn into an EXIT ONLY turn-off at any moment. The middle is a calm comfort - it gives you access to both lanes should you need to navigate unknown roads or dodge a burning SUV, and it has less urgency. All the right-laners are anxious for their exit; all the left-laners will run you off the road and spit on your mangled corpse so long as they can drive obscene speed limits. Embrace the middle, I tell ye.


Taking a Poo with the Fan On

I enjoy this particularly when anything explosive is happening below the belt. I don't know why I'm deluded enough to think that the soft whir of the bathroom fan masks any sounds coming from my asshole whilst taking a dump, but it is a small comfort. It's like I can relax, let it all hang out when the fan is on, and no one is the wiser that I am annihilating the toilet bowl. When I'm older, therefore super wealthy and able to afford anything in my wildest dreams (right, American dream?), I am going to install a bathroom fan that plays loud heavy metal.


Taking a Poo

Universally one of the more enjoyed activities, no? There's nothing quite like that moment when you're headed home and the urge to poo hits. You squeeze your butt cheeks together, walk kind of funny and/or avoid bumps on the road, and then as soon as you hit the door to your house, you run up the stairs to the bathroom (or back to the outhouse, for my Amish readers). Varied grunts and white-knuckled gripping of the toilet seat follow. I like to read the Listerine bottle during my poos - yourself?


Lars and the Real Girl

Cute, sweet, fun movie - check it out!


How long would you wait before peeing in the elevator corner?

Gawker posted on this last week, but it was so funny that I have decided this is one of my favorite video clips. Ever.

In short: Nicholas White, a BusinessWeek employee, got trapped in an elevator for 41 hours. 41 hours!!!! But it doesn't end all giggles: he was caught up in a media storm that inflated - and later destroyed - his sense of self, and was eventually fired from BusinessWeek due to his diminishing work ethic. White sued the magazine, but the settlement he received was hardly large.

Here is the Gawker link to the time-lapsed video of White's ordeal. Watch it at your own risk, claustrophobes.

Now time for the giggles - the sped up video of White in the elevator resulted in many spoofs. Here's one that I watched on Gawker last week, and I about shit myself I was laughing so hard. For me, the litmus test for a hilarious video is if, while I'm watching it at work, I have to stop it five or six times to recover from my mounting laughter, and that's exactly what happened. And I'm warning you - if you watch this clip, do it when the corporate overlords are away at lunch.





Max Silvestri gets trapped in an elevator