I'm quite proud of the theme of this upcoming show! Hope to see you there!
Several years ago I learned an important lesson: don’t write anything about a person online that you wouldn’t feel comfortable saying to his or her face. I was typing up a review of Dancing with the Stars for a newspaper and criticized the show’s co-host, Samantha Harris, whom I considered inept. I wanted to compare her to another TV host who people seemed to loathe yet embrace at the same time. Originally, I went with Ryan Seacrest, but my editor said, “People seem to like Ryan Seacrest. How about somebody else?” I can’t remember if she suggested Seacrest’s replacement or if I came up with his name, but I subbed in the name of another good-looking TV host, one who is related to a former President or two.
Thanks to all of you who weighed in earlier this week on what exactly is in my tiny blue and white ceramic house, how I can access it and how to best enjoy it. I actually heard from the horse's mouth (the mouth being the KLM airlines Twitter account) on what's up with those houses. Unfortunately the news wasn't what I wanted to hear:
The liquor is a traditional Dutch Gin called Jenever and it is produced by Bols. It is quite taboo among collectors to drink this. However if extreme circumstances require that the contents must be consumed they can be accessed by breaking the top of the chimney. Jenever (Genever is also correct) has a special way that it's drank by the Dutch:
On the one hand, I was happy to finally have this clarified, but I'm sad that I cannot access my special house-booze. Thanks to other bottles of liquor in the house (some of which are also mysterious and may require reader input), I cannot in good faith say that I am in 'extreme circumstances,' plus I don't want to break off the little chimney of my adorable little house. At least the mystery has been laid to rest.
My parents went to Amsterdam earlier this year and they did not bring me back either pot or wooden shoes. They did, however, give me this little souvenir from KLM airlines:
Isn’t it cute? It’s a little Delft house. My brother got one that was slightly different and when they were lined up next to each other on the counter, it looked like the beginning of a little village. I’m not going to lie: I am 32 years old but I wanted to take my brother’s tiny Delft house so I could have both of them. I was strong however and refrained from stealing his.
But it’s not just a little house. It’s apparently a little house filled with booze. The important question is, what kind of booze, and how do I drink it? All I know is that the Blue Delfts were made exclusively for KLM by Bols Amsterdam, which is a liquor company. But I have no idea what type of liquor is inside.
Earlier this week I was emailed a press release from someone who I believe was an amateur musician letting me know about his September 11 tribute rock song. That, and this Regretsy post signify the amount of media dreck out there about honoring September 11. (There’s even a special this week about how pop culture “saved” America. Yes, pop culture, stronger than a New York City firefighter.)
If you’re like me and are trying to avoid any 9/11 coverage that seems excessively pointless (yes, we all remember where we were), maudlin or off-base, there are a few 9/11 tributes I’d like to recommend that I think got it right.
First is the New York Magazine September 11 double-issue. The magazine presents, encyclopedia-style, a breakdown of what was important leading up to, on, and after that day and includes never-solved mysteries, architectural details and sober tributes. I couldn’t stop reading it even though it occasionally made me feel nauseous (due to the subject matter, not the writing.) It’s nonfiction at its best and provides a clear-eyed look back (I thought the story on Morning Edition called “The Banality of Evil” also did a great job of solid reporting and storytelling.)
This weekend my husband and I went out with my friend Sarah to celebrate her husband Keith’s birthday. Naturally, when the cake was brought out, we all felt that inevitable inclination to sing.
Starting the “Happy Birthday” song is one of the most awkward and tedious social conventions there is. Nobody really enjoys singing “Happy Birthday,” yet we all feel like we have to do it. There’s something about that first note, that labored “Haaaaa” that makes it feel like a dirgelike obligation.
Fortunately, however, Sarah and I remembered something. We don’t sing “Happy Birthday” on people’s birthdays. We sing the theme to Greatest American Hero.
I’m not sure how we made this discovery about how the GAH theme is superior to the “Happy Birthday” song. I think we were just talking about how great the song is, were joking about how it should be everyone’s theme and realized it makes a fantastic birthday song. As opposed to the dragging tedium of the “Happy Birthday” song, the GAH theme is uplifting, with a sense of wonder. You--yes you!--have a birthday! Who could believe it? We’re going to celebrate! Plus, it’s much easier and much more fun to sing:
Now, I know we’re not exactly the first people to co-opt the GAH theme song for other purposes, so let me pay diligence where it’s due:
Look, I like Kit-Kats, you like Kit-Kats, we all like Kit-Kats. There’s no secret as to what’s great about them--chocolate plus krispies. Boom. Plus, you have the extra kick of getting to break your candy down into delightful segments (assuming you got the traditional Kit-Kat and not the “Big Kat,” which has its own charms but is clearly something separate from an actual Kit-Kat. It would be like if they came out with an apple-sized Hersey’s Kiss, which would be good, but just obviously not a Kiss.)
So the appeal of Kit-Kats seem pretty obvious, right? Then how come everyone in Kit-Kat commercials acts like they know something we don’t know?
That’s the patented Kit-Kat Face--like you monetarily forgot why you bought this candy in the first place, and then were just pleasantly reminded. “Ah yes. Mm!