in: on queue

Back in the Saddle

in: on queue

To be honest, folks, I don’t know that I can do this anymore.

(Pauses to allow the chorus of encouragement)

But really. I spent just over a year virtually off the grid, swathed in the stench of day-old coffee and anxious brow sweat, only reappearing occasionally to issue a blogosphere screed about my lack of a career path. I was doing very little writing of any kind, aside from scribbled (and oft-rottenly misspelled) names on coffee cups. And now, for the first time in nearly two years, I have a position that requires me to wax poetic on a daily basis. And I’ve found that, at best, I’m out of practice. At worst, I’ve lost the touch entirely.

I love to write, and my job, while an incredible opportunity, doesn’t allow me to do a lot of free flowing prose. So I have vowed to write, everyday, something. My dear friend Scott is a great proponent of writing as much as possible, on every platform. As such, I hope to do a bit of writing here, perhaps, too, on a few different media sites, and I’m confident I’ll get my groove back. There’s a lot I want to say: I want to talk about politics, music, literature, film. I’ll try to keep my Pretty Little Liars fangirling to a minimum – I just can’t help it -, but I sure as hell will talk about Robin Thicke, and maybe not quite in the way you’d expect. And I’ll talk about the things that are of actual importance to me too. I think I have a lot to say still; the trick will be finding my voice again.

So maybe give me a chance, and keep reading. I hope to have something interesting to say.

Happy Thursday, happy new year, l’shana tova, and the best of evenings to y’all.

Book Club: Pulse for Android

in: on queue, in: the press

Okay, so those of you who know me intimately know I’m not exactly tech-savvy. Web-savvy, yes, but technologically inclined? Certainly not. But I’m an avid Wired reader (and thanks to Thomps, subscriber!), and I love to pretend to know about all sorts of technological thing-a-ma-bobbers.

So, I’m celebrating nine months with my beloved Android phone (the original Droid), and I honestly don’t know how I got by without it. I’ve invested my life into this phone. I’m always going through a bit of an application cycle, wherein I cleanse my phone of particular apps and then install new ones (sayonara, Northwestern’s particularly shitty, useless and space-wasting application, hello Buzzfeed‘s totally twee and squeal-inducing application for cuddly animals* and Joseph Gordon-Levitt). And the other day, I hit the proverbial motherload.

I downloaded Pulse from Alphonso Labs at my market’s urging, and I’m addicted. I know the application’s been out for a while (and has been free on both Android and iPhone platforms for a few months), but this discovery was the answer to my calls for a streamlined news application. I found myself wondering this break how to find the information and news I wanted when I’d read all of my Twitter updates. My brain’s grown finicky and tired of traditional news sites. How am I to read the news if it’s not presented in an easy, scrollable format a la New York Magazine‘s fantastic Android widget?

Pulse is it. You can follow up to 20 feeds on Pulse, and the most recent articles and updates are presented on a flowing visual interface. It’s similar to Google Reader but features images instead, and there’s even the capability for Reader integration. Also, it’s so freaking simple to share articles on Twitter, Facebook and a number of other sites.

Now, The Dunce Cap isn’t one for gushing about a product. I’m not here to sell you anything (except for me, future employers!), and the best thing about Pulse is that it is free. I can’t even believe it – it’s easy to read and friendly to my news ADD, and I can even create a widget for any news site, blog or even comic (!) I follow. I’m following enough publications and blogs to really round out my knowledge. I’ve got my Frisky fix and my A.V. Club updates, as well as Salon, Gawker, NYT (to pretend I’m a real human being interested in daily news), Wired and even The Girl with the Dunce Cap! (Why do I follow myself, you ask? Because I can.) I’ve spent so many nights with my finger glued to Pulse. It feels like something approaching productivity.

*Cute Overload is also a great site I will inevitably follow on Pulse and features very cuddly animals

Image from Gizmodo

So, to follow that total product plug (I’m not getting any sort of compensation for this. I’m just obsessed.), an article I found courtesy of Pulse. I’m following Gizmodo for some of my dorkier tech news needs, and this article made me laugh. Check it out.

I’m Not Buying Any More CDs That Don’t Look Like Lunch Meat

Book Club: Summer music

in: on queue

Jason Harwell

Men with(out) sunglasses

It’s sweet, sweet summertime, and that means a many splendid things: heat, sunshine, sweat, swimming pools, swimsuit, chaise lounges and sunglasses. And, it seems, in music, there are two primary camps. There are the Corey Harts and Tracey Ullmans, donning sunglasses both during the day and the night, and then there are these guys. And they’ve got a message for you. Take off your damn sunglasses, square!

Pretty melody:

1. Ezra Furman & the Harpoons, “Take Off Your Sunglasses”

I became intimately familiar with Ezra Furman & the Harpoons during my internship at SPACE my freshmen year. I guess plastering their faces all over our promos worked – I can’t help but sing along.

2. Jason Harwell, “Why Do Girls Wear Big Sunglasses?”

Jason Harwell is such a doll. The Athens musician and artist stole my heart with “Katie Secretly Married at 8,” but this track is just as wondrous.

Book Club: Summer Television

in: on queue

The television I tune into regularly is on summer vacation. And that sucks. I miss my Glee and my 30 Rock and especially my Community, and I’m lonely enough to be regularly watching Sidereel for ’90s preteen dramas. And my loneliness and boredom has reached an incredible low: I am watching The Real Housewives of New York City.

Channel surfing:

The Real Housewives of New York City. Photo courtesy of Bravo.

This show is the worst. The cast is, generally, annoying. Their actions are deplorable. And I am going to punch Kelly Bensimon in the face. The third season concludes tonight with the third and final installment of the reunion special, and it is sure to be another screamfest of bitchy proportions. Oh, god. The drama. The catfights. The tears. The Louboutins.

My mother adores this show, and given that I am stuck in suburbia (but newly employed!), I’ve become a regular watcher of Real Housewives reruns. I want to dissect the characters a bit and, later tonight, I plan to do a play-by-play live blog of the ultimate season finale.

The show, in short, is a stage for the rich, famous and crazy women on New York City. Season 3 followed six (er, seven, but I’ll really only talk to six) of NYC’s wealthiest women as they bicker and moan and attention-grab. It’s the clash of the bourge-y – stilettos at ready. The six are, essentially, a group of frenemies with rich husbands, bratty kids and gorgeously furnished pads. Some bare their breasts, some bare their souls and all bare their total insanity.

The cast:

Bethenny Frankel – Bethenny is a natural foods chef. Well-educated, snarky and disarmingly honest, Bethenny is my favorite. I’m totally in her camp. She is a very recent mother and wife with her own new TV show (Bethenny Getting Married?, also on Bravo) and a successful brand of culinary products, Skinnygirl.
LuAnn de Lesseps – The former Countess and a matronly biotch. A former model and nurse, LuAnn sticks her broad-shouldered frame into everyone’s business and harks on the manners of all her castmates. My favorite LuAnn moment? When she chides Bethenny for introducing LuAnn to the chauffeur as her first name. LuAnn released a single, the aptly titled “Money Can’t Buy You Class.”


LuAnn de Lesseps, “Money Can’t Buy You Class”

Alex McCord – I used to hate Alex. She and her husband Simon try far too hard to get their faces plastered all over page six of The New York Times. Simon is clearly hiding deep within the recesses of a well-groomed beard of a closet (mixed metaphors just for you, Ramona), and Alex’s snotty kids Francois (“I know more than you!”) and Johan don berets when they enter French restaurants. Majorly obnoxious. But Alex has grown on me. She grew a backbone in season three, took on the bullies of the group and spoke her mind – and she is a former Wildcat. Round of applause for most redeemed.
Ramona Singer – Ramona is crazy. I really don’t have much more to say than that. She dances like a fiend and like everyone is watching, but her family is fairly cute. Thumbs up. She also mixes metaphors like crazy – “diarrhea of the mouth,” if you will. Check out the video below, in which Ramona attempts to work the catwalk, reworked by a clever YouTuber.


Ramona Singer, Loris Diran finale fashion show

Jill Zarin – Now, given my background, I feel justified in saying this – Jill Zarin is the epitome of a Jewish American Princess. She demands the attention and concern of all others around, and she screeches like a banshee before weeping like a big ol’ baby. I have rarely seen a grown woman throw fits as Jill does. It’s almost impressive. And please don’t get me started with Jill’s daughter Ally. What a total brat.
Kelly Killoren Bensimon – Oh sweet nothingness. This girl is bats**t crazy and insanely vapid. Bensimon used to be married to legendary photographer Gilles Bensimon, but I suspect she went off her rocker long before the divorce. Her hissyfit in St. Barts? Nuts. Totally nuts. The way she squinched her formerly beautiful face. She looks like a Gremlin. “Systematic bullying,” my bum.

So, the women of Real Housewives. Plastic, arguably beautiful, full of suburban rage and plain ol’ insane. I can’t wait for the next season.

Check out what I hope to be a successful live feed next.

Book Club: Summer Nostalgia

in: on queue

One of my absolute favorite things to do is to devour entire collections of artistic endeavors (book series, television shows, movie franchises, etc.) in a short period of time. I get obsessive about things and complete them (usually) without skipping a beat – books excluded. I’m an awful skip-to-the-end-and-spoil-the-surprise-r.

But, all that being said, summer is the best time to indulge in this among my favorite hobbies. And, so, first things first on the list of summer nostalgia – Felicity.

Hollaback girl:

The cast of "Felicity"

I have a particular soft spot for ’90s WB dramas, a spiel I’ve certainly launched into before. And in the land of finicky, sweaty, dramatized adolescence, Felicity was king. Or queen.

So, the series was created by J.J. Abrams, and Ron Howard, Brian Glazer, et. al. produced, and it starred Scotts Foley and Speedman, and jeez ol’ peets, it’s good old fashioned fun about rape, cheatin’ hearts and minds, sex and Estonian chocolate poisoning. It “went there” before Degrassi went edgy. Way before.

I’ve picked up from the pilot, and ten years ago, Felicity Porter, all tight ringlets and sweet Southern California charm, was entering her junior year of college. And, sure, it’s a pretty pathetic news peg, but guess who is entering her junior (or third, whatever) year of college? That’s right – yours truly.

So, Felicity lasted four seasons, one to coincide with every year of the titular character’s college experience at the fictional University of New York (based, clearly, on NYU). The show was chocked full of hilarious quips and likable characters, but it dated itself with its loose acrylic sweaters, bulky Mac desktops and cutely endearing (but totally inescapable) Scott Foley bang cuts.

And despite the show’s timeliness, the series was brilliant. Sure, critics lambasted the show after Felicity (Keri Russell) chopped off her curly locks in season 2, and the series unarguably jumped the shark in season 4 when the writers opted for a super-lame time travel device – or so Wikipedia tells me -, but the show was really charming. Full disclosure – I’ve watched 12 episodes in two days. Despite a final. Which I studied for, still. But I digress.

I’ll be finishing the series out in, say, the next two weeks, and I’m hoping it’ll be even half as enjoyable as the beginning has been. I’ve been enjoying living college through another point of view, my own sort of time travel, and I’m not only nostalgic for ’90s television but also a bit disappointed I wasn’t able to attend college in the decade. It would have been fun.

And, plus, I miss Scott Foley. Bring back that cheeky grin and that sideswept hairstyle. Jennifer Garner, how do you sleep at night?

“The only time I’ve ever been to the principal’s office was in the fourth grade. This boy kept calling me Fellatio Porter, and even though I didn’t know what that meant, I put twenty-seven packets of salt into his orange juice cup.” – Felicity Porter, Season 1, Episode 12, “Friends”

Coming up: Dawson’s Creek, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Bones, Popular, Grosse Point

Book Club: Summer music

in: on queue

We’re two weeks away from summer, at least here at Northwestern, and yesterday the university’s famed Dillo Day marked the real start to summer celebrations. First up on The Dunce Cap’s music list: Guster, the midday artist at Dillo Day 2010. Guster performed alongside Regina Spektor, Super Mash Bros, Rhymefest and Nelly, who rounded out the day’s line-up.

Pretty melody:

Photo courtesy of NU student

See, my older sister got me into Guster six years ago. I’d listen to “Amsterdam,” from the band’s 2003 effort Keep It Together (or the one with the hummingbird on it), on repeat for days on end, and I’ve since fallen in love with their quirky lyricism and catchy hooks. The four nice Jewish boys from Tufts are known for their stage antics, wherein the members may pick up strange and unusual instruments, partake in witty stage banter or even participate in large-scale stage gags, such as a 2001 show in Rochester, NY, in which the guys were summoned to an empty stage “Price is Right” style. The members have paraded as a hillbilly opener (Peace Soldiers) and then as a jam band (Trippin’ Balls), and they continue to play hilarious covers, as with yesterday’s version of “Don’t Fear the Reaper,” an almost obvious epilogue to their own tune, “Red Oyster Cult.”

All in all, Guster remains one of my favorite bands, a constant tribute to summer, a theme The Dunce Cap seems a bit obsessed with. Check out “Two Points for Honesty” and “Amsterdam” below, and try to catch them out on the road this summer.

Congratulations on being the greatest looking place ever (existed). – Guster member on Northwestern’s Dillo Day crowd

“Two Points for Honesty,” from 2001’s Lost and Gone Forever

“Amsterdam,” from 2003’s Keep It Together

In other news: The use of Paula Cole’s “Where Have All the Cowboys Gone” as a torture device in the Star Wars-themed episode of “Family Guy” (“Something, Something, Something Dark Side“) was pretty upsetting. A hilarious but sad remembrance of one of my favorite songs from the ’90s.

Book Club: May listening

in: on queue

So it should be abundantly clear by now that The Dunce Cap isn’t particularly well-versed in hip hop or rap. Every now and again, though, this girl will come across something so incredible in another genre that it deserves a dedication post. And so is the case with Eminem’s newest track.

Pretty melody:

Here’s the thing: I’ve always had an appreciation for Eminem, however peripheral. It started with my father, I would bet, who would belt out rather obnoxiously, “TWO TRAILER PARK GIRLS GO ‘ROUND THE OUTSIDE, ROUND THE OUTSIDE, ROUND THE OUTSIDE,” before gazing rather proudly upon us. Or he’d butcher the inspirational words of “Lose Yourself” as he piloted the car on family outings, and we had no choice but to listen and sigh. Plus, there were Em’s pretty hilarious videos for “The Real Slim Shady,” “Without Me” and “My Name Is.” That was my first real introduction to Eminem – a few misrepresented stanzas, a couple of funny but highly censored videos and a movie about poor Detroit starring that girl from Clueless (R.I.P. Brittany Murphy*). But there was so much more about Eminem that I was just missing.

Marshall Mathers is clearly a very talented lyricist, and he can spit rhymes so damn well, but he’s never put his talent to use, with the exception of hurling insults at his radio peers. And his last album, 2009’s Relapse, and the singles it spawned, the overwrought and (sorry!) melodramatic “Crack a Bottle” and the carnivalesque, trying-too-hard-to-be-tongue-in-cheek “We Made You” – the one where Slim Shady continues to cheese on Jessica Simpson and her pop culture ilk -, were a wash.

So now Eminem is back with Recovery, and the best thing about it all is that he agrees with me. Relapse sucked. On the album’s first track, “Not Afraid,” he angrily vows,

And to the fans, I’ll never let you down again, I’m back
I promise to never go back on that promise, in fact
Let’s be honest, that last Relapse CD was “ehhhh”

Pardon the language, but damn, Slim, you’ve got it right. And “Not Afraid” is a rowdy, raucous, emotional anthem set over a melody and beat which K’Naan would be proud of. It’s not Eminem at his best musically, sure, but lyrically, Slim has rarely been better. His rhymes are intense and sincere and here’s the kicker – they’re inspiring.


“Not Afraid,” Eminem

It’s an uplifting song of personal atonement, wherein Eminem unleashes all of his aggravation with addiction and struggles, praising his accomplishments and promising to come back bigger and better than ever before. He’s done with the skits and clever ploys, and he’s grown from his peers and even his contemporaries. Even Blink-182 had to grow up eventually.

It’s certainly a turn for the good ol’ browbeating Slim Shady MTV audiences grew familiar with, but it’s a refreshing reintroduction to a man with true talent. And, it seems, Eminem is approaching a real era of responsibility, as a father, as an MC, as a role model and as a true artist.

Shady’s back. Tell a friend.

For a glimpse at pop culture heckling Eminem, check out the hilarious 2004 D12/Eminem video for “My Band.”

[*editor’s note: Just minutes after publishing this post, it was discovered that Murphy’s widower, Simon Monjack, was pronounced dead in his Los Angeles home, just five months after the death of his wife. The immediate ruling as to cause of death is natural causes. Our condolences go out to the family.]

Book Club: May DVDs

in: on queue

Blu-Ray Hooray!:

The cast of MTV's Daria.

La la la la la, Daria boxed set on DVD today!

In the mid-to-late-90s, Daria captivated our hearts with her no-nonsense attitude and unpopular misanthropy. She had a kooky cast of friends, from her airhead sister Quinn to her arty best friend Jane and all of the goths, jocks and rock stars (Trent, dreamy!) in between, and her life was set to a damn good ’90s playlist. Daria was truly the anti-hero of television girldom. She spoke in monotone, spoke almost solely in snarky quips and rolled her eyes – a lot.

Adapted from “Beavis and Butthead“, Daria was everything the original MTV cartoon wasn’t – intelligent, relatable, actually watchable. Plus, Daria lived in Lawndale, a town that, as The Frisky points out in their list of the Top 10 Reasons to Love Daria, could be anywhere – including my lovely hometown of Snellville, Ga. (motto: “Where Everybody’s Somebody”).

It’s about time the series finally be released on DVD. The show went off the air in 2001, and it’s finally resurfacing today with an eight-disc set. The set features all five seasons plus special features and the two Daria movies and is loaded with lots n’ lots of extras. I’m already scouring the web for cheap deals on the box set, which I’ve been coveting for a pretty long time. The only problem? MTV couldn’t secure the rights for the original music – think R.E.M., Alice in Chains, etc. – so the DVD replaced the tracks with bland background music. H-hey.

I’m pretty sure that little snag won’t keep me from purchasing this gem. Must have for my collection – I do love awkward and dated shows about outcasts, etc. Plus, “Sick Sad World” is my favorite cartoon-within-a-cartoon, rivaled only by “The Itchy & Scratchy Show.”

Check out the first episode of the series, “The Esteemers,” below from MTV.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Book Club: May music

in: on queue


“You Belong With Me (Taylor Swift cover)”

Tomorrow. Tonight, rather. Butch Walker. At House of Blues. Beyond thrilled. This will be my fourteenth (approximately) Butch Walker live show, and I’ve seen him through the various stages of his career, from Marvelous 3 to the Let’s Go Out Tonites to his stint with American Hi-Fi, and I cannot wait to take part in his newest endeavor with the Black Widows. To be frank, this whole blog endeavor could read as an endearing love letter to Walker.

Walker is hilarious and has a unique and captivating on-stage persona. He recently appeared on stage at the 52nd Grammys with Taylor Swift (and Stevie Nicks!) to perform her “You Belong With Me,” and the teen pop star attended Walker’s show in Minneapolis Friday. He’s renowned in the industry for his production and co-songwriting abilities, but I’m familiar with his independent musicianship, as he is a good ol’ hometown boy (“You say you’re from Cartersville/God, don’t say that too loud!”), and I’m so proud of all that he has accomplished. He’s had a slew of hits for bands such as Bowling for Soup, SR-71 and Weezer (he co-wrote their shockingly awesome track “(If You’re Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To” and produced their seventh album, “Raditude“), as well as for tween queens Avril Lavigne and LiLo.

In Nov. 2007, Butch’s Malibu home, which he was renting from bassist Flea of the Red Hot Chili Peppers, was ravaged by a wildfire. The home, located in Southern California, is the namesake of his album “Sycamore Meadows,” so named for the street it was located on. All of his possessions, including the masters to every song he had ever recorded, were destroyed. He’s since experienced a rebirth musically, experimenting with glam-rock throwbacks, winding chord progression and homages to Uncle Tupelo‘s alt-country. The result is a gloriously catchy sound which fits perfectly into the growing retrospective which is Walker’s ever-burgeoning musical career.

I’m really thrilled for a night of legal debauchery with The Duckster & the only man I have ever proclaimed a “Rock God.” A video of Butch’s non-musical antics is below. He offered a variety of pre-order packages for his new album, “I Liked It Better When You Had No Heart,” and the result of a ludicrous (and likely joke) $25,000 package is this video, a collaboration with Panic at the Disco (sans exclamation point)’s Brendon Urie.