The celebs! Oh, the celebs!
Get ready for another filibuster, folks. I've been burning the candle at both ends (and holding a match to the middle) for a few weeks now. Now that my mind, like my candle, is a melted mess, it must be time to tell my three-week supply of tales. And sitting on a 4-8:30 p.m. nap, I just might have the vigor to do it.
Without further ado (and if there's one thing the Reichmanifesto is known for, it's piling on the ado), it's time for my NY celebrity update! What, you thought that "Oh, the celebs!" line back there was just to fill seats? No ma'am, I've got celebs in spades. For those of you keeping score at home, as well as those of you who can't stomach the whole Reichmanifesto, but don't want to be lost at the water cooler tomorrow either, here is the updated list (with ensuing narrative on deck):
Tiger, Phil, et al.
Norah "!!!!!" Jones (of "Future Missus Reichman" fame)
Kevin Rose and Alex Albrecht (of Diggnation fame)
The voice of Jafar (of "I love your beard; it's so...twiiiiisted" fame)
The voice of Douglas Yancey Funnie (of "I Need Mo' Allowance" fame)
Barack-A-Doodle (his caravan, anyway)
Marissa Mayer (of Google fame)
Guy who plays Roy on the Office (new update: his name is David Denman)
An actress from a telenovela on "Univision"
Kyle Monson, my boss/the bassist for Mere, who plays the "Higher" song on a Haier commcercial.
Guess which celeb I'm most excited about? I'll give you a hint: It's Norah Jones!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Guys, I don't even know where to begin (pictured above, by the way). I've harbored a crush of depressing proportions for as long as I can remember (my memory only goes back to 2002). I'm not even kidding, now I know what it was like to be a middle-school girl during the JTT/Devon Sawa days/daze. Anyway, I happened upon an unassuming little bulletin, buried in the back of the Onion (I hardly ever read the AV Club; 'twas fate), announcing a radio show featuring Noritah at Le Poisson Rouge downtown.
Seeing as how I didn't have a ticket, I camped outside the little club a few hours before showtime, with a roast-beef samich, two Wild Cherry Pepsi's, a box of Shock Tarts (I refuse to call them "Shockers"), and Garrison Keillor's "Lake Wobegon Days" as company. After some gut-wrenching limbo, a portly version of Tracy McGrady sold me a ticket and let me through. Now here's the thing: when people say "Dude, we were right there, inches away!" that usually means "Dude, I was awash in a sea of general admission, nowhere near the stage!" But this was an intimate little joint, and I pounced on the closest seat at the closest table, and as the girl sitting next to me in the computer lab is my witness, I swear that I could touch the front of the stage from my seat. I downed an expensive and watery Cherry Coke, folded my arms, and waited.
Guys, she was (is) an angel. An angel with a little NYC edge, that is, with short hair (with a dyed streak) and a small tattoo on her wrist. For some reason, I always expected her to be shy and quiet, but she was the ideal blend of cool and humble; almost like Mary Hatch on "It's a Wonderful Life"--the sweet girl that knows she has grown up to be quite a catch, but still gets a little nervous around George Bailey. The Radio Happy Hour comprised an interview with Norah, a three-part skit with Norah, and two Norah songs in between ("My Old Man of the Hour" and "Little Room"). The answer is yes, her voice really is that good. If, for some reason, Norah spurns me (not gonna happen, but if) and elects not to be my wife, I will just have to be astronomically wealthy and hire her to sing me to sleep every night. Plus, she held her own in the busting of chops during the skit/interview. Sigh.
PCMag Coworker Joke Break:
Brian: I think it may be time to reunite my early-90s comedy troupe, the Internuts. We had a 28k smileup connection.
Laarni: He's frozen, like Walt Disney. In animated suspension.
Whitney (right on cue): I think you mean "suspended animation." "Animated suspension" is what you call Cirque du Soleil.
Brian: Pew Research should stick to investigating what it knows best--onomatopoeias for laser guns.
Steve Carrell/Michael Scott/Agent Scarn and I are basically buds now. I'm 87% sure he touched my backpack. See, on my way to see my coworker Chris Phillips play with his rockin' band at B.B. Kings, I stumbled upon a confused/excited herd of tourists in Times Square; a block of road, specifically the median, was roped off. Turns out Steve Carrell and Tina Fey (grainily pictured above, thanks to my camera that broke right after I took this) were shooting a scene for the forthcoming "Date Night." Bombshell Tina had big hair, a blue dress, and her usual cleavage, while The World's Best Boss sported a snappy black suit.
We (the herd and I) stuffed into the sidewalks, watching the duo stroll through six or seven takes up and down the median. A band of mustached palookas lined the sidewalk to ensure that the gooseneckers didn't bleed into the road, where they would have blended right in with the hired extrys, and all Hell would break loose. After a few minutes I had had my fill, and tried to leave. Like a salmon swimming in a stream where a bunch of other salmon are trying to watch a couple really famous salmon, I made little progress. I heard the security apes reminding the people to stay on the sidewalk and keep moving, as they had been, but now with feeling. I felt a big surge from behind, and just as I turned around to tell the apes that I wanted to keep it moving just as badly as they did, but rough-housing would get us nowhere, Steve and Tina rushed past me to a tent set up next to Sephora. I thought they were still on the median doing their thing, and there they were, no more than a foot away, and if my backpack theory is correct, zero foots away! I tell ya, I just can't seem to keep these celebs off me.
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My dad texted me yesterday to tell me U.S. Open tickets were going for $10 bucks on StubHub. I bought a ticket (lousy $15 StubHub last-minute processing fee), hit the hay at midnight, then woke up at 3 a.m. to head to Penn Station. I wasn't sure how long it would take to get out to Long Island, pick up my ticket at the StubHub station at the Holiday Inn, and get down to Bethpage, so I erred on the early side. Saw a guy who really got worked over in a fight on the subway. I think he was on his way to the hospital. I got there at 5:30 a.m., and the security guys told me I was the first spectator there. The first!
I couldn't quite decide on a spectator strategy, but I figured my "kid in a candy store" brain would rush me to all the wrong places at all the wrong times, so I decided to install myself on the front row of the grandstand on the right side of the 18th green, and stay put. Great choice! Since the bottom half of the field worked through most of the back nine yesterday, we had golfers on the green in just a few minutes past the 9 a.m. horn. I sat with a bench full of bulldog-shouldered New York guys. No offense to Johnny Miller, but you can't beat the "I sawr his baul shoot to da right in de cabbage, no freagin' way he's hittin' outta dat" commentary. It was hilarious, and definitely spiced up the dull stretches.
I'll tell you, watching these guys pop their irons onto the elevated green was like watching a giant game of billiards. Rocco Mediate had the shot of the day, plopping the ball just a few yards from the pin, then pulling the string so she rolled backward just a foot away (birdie). Rocco is still a fan favorite after last year's Open, and got a standing ovation. Tiger was larger than life. He shot an uninspiring par on 18, but the guy looked like royalty out there. If it isn't my most star-struck moment of my life, it's up there. The crowd cheered Phil all the way down the fairway, and was heartbroken when he missed his birdie putt just an inch to the right (everybody missed to the right, it was like watching a horror movie--"Don't go in there!").
My highlight? On my way to the port-a-john, the path was a complete quagmire, so the grounds crew was spreading hay all over the place. A cute Bethpage employee walked past one of the crew guys, a good-ol' boy farmer type, and said "Hey." Then he said, "Good joke." "What?" "You know, hey...hay." "Oh." Classic exchange. I wanted to to pat him on the back and say, "Forget her, brother. The right one's out there somewhere."
I am tired and so are you. The end. For now.
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