I'm not sure what is more strange: the fact that I was at the Washington Auto Show this weekend, or that Danielle "Dani" Evans from "America's Next Top Model" was also there. I can at least explain the former; I went with someone who is into beemers and wanted to check out the 2007 models. As for me, well - eager to please, impress and generally not come across as an idiot, I actually read the Wikipedia article on BMW beforehand to brush up on my knowledge of German cars. (This is akin to multiplying zero by 1,000.) Overall, my attempt at coming across as someone that I'm not (a person who knows that beemers are German cars) was a success.

Here is a picture I snapped on my cell phone of Dani, for anyone who cares.

Posted by Toby at 08:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

As if you even needed a reason as to why "America's Funniest Home Videos" is the second longest-running entertainment program on ABC - and the greatest entertainment program on any network EVER - here you go:

Jury's still out on the "talking dogs v. talking babies" debate, though.

Posted by Toby at 04:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Having enjoyed the luminous commentary of the "FOX & Friends" anchors during the morning's live broadcast of the Oscar nominations ("What is a 'Babel'?"), I boldly asserted my desire last night to watch the State of the Union Address on the nation's most distrusted name in news. Shank flipped to channel 42 and the garish assault of red, white, blue, crimson, cerulean, cherry and azure digital on-screen graphics put me at a patriotic ease. This was going to be a kick-ass speech!

Of course, the gods had something else in store for us. As Shank fumbled with her remote to raise the volume to an appropriately ear-shattering level (How else can one enjoy a news station on which neoconservative talkshow hosts yell at their guests to "SHUT UP!"), the television momentarily flipped to none other than "America's Funniest Home Videos," where a dog was rolling around on a patch of grass to the sound of a hysterically (and understandably!) laughing audience. Cut immediately to a cat sticking its head in a Mary Jane shoe - again, to the cry of uproarious laughter. Oh man, domestic pets sure are hilarious! State of the Union, what?

And so it was with incredible resolve that Shank wrestled the remote from America's most hypnotically low-brow home videos and stayed the course, switching back to the dignified reserve of the House Chamber. Although, really, it was just more of the same old dumb pet tricks; the only thing missing was the laugh track.

Posted by Toby at 08:23 AM | Permalink | Comments (9)

In an effort to start off my week on the right foot, I journeyed through the snow to CVS for a few essentials:

Woohoo — I won't have to go back to CVS for at least another three days!

Posted by Toby at 08:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

I don't even know how to introduce this amazing clip. I cried when Geri left the Spice Girls. I cried when her video for "Look At Me" premiered on TRL. The only kareoke song I've ever sang is "Say You'll Be There." (And more than once I stepped back in silence out of respect for Geri's "two and two together" verse.)

And so it should come as no surprise that this is my FAVORITE clip from "Spice World."

Sure, they're essentially untalented and wholly dependent on their above-average looks — but God damn it, so am I!

I won't have access to the internet until Sunday, so have a great weekend, everybody.

Posted by Toby at 12:20 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I spent most of my night sitting alone on the couch, drinking a few generous pours of Carlo, watching "American Idol," and playing with the roll of fat that has recently made a home for itself on my tummy. Having become somewhat proud of this roll — it's as if I've created life! — I've now toyed with the idea of becoming morbidly obese, or at least weighing its pros and cons as compared to remaining scrawny, unimpressive and weak. I prefer obese, mostly because I like extremes. Except for extremely skinny. I don't like that at all.

On good nights I'll play a song before bed (usually Adina Howard's "Freak Like Me") and dance around in front of the mirror for a while. I can't be the only one who does this — at least not the only gay one. On bad nights I'll make it a point to skip the mirror and will head straight to bed. It's been mostly good nights for the past few weeks, so I'm now allowed to complain!

Speaking of mirrors and excuses for admiring oneself in them, check out this picture I took yesterday:

If I suspected my back of being fat then, I can only wonder how it can be described now. I know I'm not fat but I also know I'm not huge, so this picture confounds me, to say the least. Say what you will in the comments, but I know I did a bad job of airbrushing my backne, so don't go there.

Posted by Toby at 11:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (35)

Check out "Fed Up," a reportedly leaked track by Britney Spears [via Andy].

I'm assuming this is a rough demo. The verses need a little work, but the chorus is slamming. Great work, Britney! Keep it up - I know you can do it.

UPDATE: UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE.

Posted by Toby at 04:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Ah, Manor Park. (Who knew?) Home of many a chicken shack, Baptist church, unisex hair salon — and evidently the 2007 Mid-Atlantic Drumline Championship. With nothing better to do on the hallowed eve of Martin Luther King Day, some friends and I journeyed to a random high school gymnasium where "urban percussionists" (p.c. term) got down, dirty, and straight-up NASTAY. Welcome to drumline, bitch!

As one of only three white people in attendance, I felt instantly at home among my drumline-loving brothers and sisters, clapping along and resisting the impulse to gawk when an eight-year-old mimed perverse sexual acts to the backbeat rhythm of marching drums. Of course, that comes with the territory. I was amazed by the enthusiasm and spirit of the crowd, and the performances were absolutely stunning, including that of the proud mother who, upon witnessing her daughter accept a first place trophy, stood up and exclaimed, "That's my baby!" Drama — what's not to love?

Further contributing to a day of many firsts, I imbibed a Sam's Club Diet Cola, easily the gnarliest shit I've ever had the misfortune of consuming. Drumline Championship: A. Ghetto-ass shit-in-a-can: D.

Posted by Toby at 11:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Never mind why I was searching "Aunt Jemima" on YouTube. This is easily the most pure and unabashed display of racism that I have seen in my entire life. Anything involving blackface deserves little to no introduction, so sit back, relax, and marvel at what appears to be a Klan Konvention but in actuality is a company Halloween party.

Posted by Toby at 02:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Back in the depression of my high school days — before alcohol and GlaxoSmithKline mercifully intervened — I was really into writing poetry. Naturally, I wrote mostly about how much I hated myself, occasionally referencing some kind of "secret" I had no choice but to hold from all those around me. Gee, I wonder what that secret could have been? I guess we'll never know.

Thinly veiled allusions to my struggle with inner homosexual demons aside, I stumbled upon a bunch of these poems while drunkenly looking for them last night. The first I'll share with you is "Comforting Lie," a title borrowed from the No Doubt song of the same name. Oh, and the plagiarism of third wave ska bands doesn't stop there; the rhyme scheme is stolen from No Doubt's "Cellophane Boy." What can I say — I was really into No Doubt.

COMFORTING LIE

I'm not your man

I'm not what you think

And it's not your fault
That I can't pretend.

You see
I'm holding onto kisses wrapped in tiny sheets of plastic
And I place them on my nightstand to enable easy access
And before I go to bed, I need to fill that vacant hollow
I unwrap your bitter pill and I just pinch my nose and swallow

Will this
lie
become
my
life?

Please, dear, take my advice
Just run for your life
I'm: not the same; not like them.

Oh, your substitution fills the void
Like candy or a toy
You're: sweet; but unfulfilling.

Please leave…
Will you become a comforting lie?

Just go…
Have you become my comforting lie?

This garbage somehow got published in my high school's literary journal, opposite some ninth grader's pen-and-ink drawing of a rose. Could you have imagined it any other way?

Posted by Toby at 10:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)