thriller madness!

This is golden. So, apparently some passengers on the underground system of London decided to put together a little show for their fellow commuters. Someone got a video of them dancing along to Michael Jackson's 'Thriller', complete with dance moves from that video. The best part of the clip is the polite applause at the end. London, so civilized! New Yorkers would be rolling their eyes and ignoring the dancers.

Here's the clip:

And, if you need a refresher for what the original awesome-tastic video was like, here it is (you need to click the link)(and ahh, memories!!): Thriller Video

Of course, if you haven't seen the Indian Bollywood version (I've heard that it's actually in Tamil, but whatever), then this is truly the best version of them all:

poor women need not apply ...

I suppose that one of the wonderful things about NYC is the amount of material wealth floating around this city. I mean, I don't find it that great, but there are plenty of people who make it their sole mission in life to mass together vast amounts of wealth.

In this proud American tradition, the 'Sugar Mommas and Boy Toys Speed Date' has been set up by one enterprising company named Pocket Change. Male applicants are picked based solely on their appearance (photographs must be sent in), while women must be over 35, have a salary of over $500,000 and have assets worth at least four million. The logic behind this is that older women can pick up, wine, dine and get cozy with hot younger men.

The website proudly proclaims that it takes over where "Susan B. Anthony left off. The Fourth Wave of Feminism, Pocket Change be thy name!" This statement is followed by the cheerful announcement that it is "the women's turn."

I have several issues with this. I'm all for physical beauty (especially in males), but this website comes across as a tad ... shallow. YaknowwhatImean? Like. Really shallow.

And then there's the issue of this whole 'fourth wave of feminism' nonsense. When was there ever a real third wave? Even the 'second wave' feminist movement (which, arguably, was in the 60's), was kind of an off shoot of Civil Rights and everything else. Where is the third wave? And what the hell is a fourth wave?

Not to mention, citing this company as somehow feminist or on the brink of a new gynocentric movement is absurd. If anything, Pocket Change sets women back 25 years by turning their website into a wealthy woman's version of 'Hot or Not' with all the voting for the best looking applicants. It is a study in absurdity, not feminism.

Also ... it's the women's turn to do what? Collect attractive young men to parade around on their Versace and Gucci glad arms? Find someone to lavish their $500,000 annual salary on? Turn the tables and have older women pick up younger men?

I'm not exactly the world's great philosopher, but the morals behind this website disturb me. I know similar websites exist for 'Sugar Daddies' to find young, beautiful women (well, more like teenagers), and I have a problem with those too. Why? Because it boils down a relationship into two categories: 1) looking good and 2) having money or having money spent on you. It cheapens everything about romance, love, sex and friendship.

Which is fine, I guess. There are a lot of people who are really only after money and/or a good looking partner. I'm not going to rain on anyone's parade if that's what they're after. But geez, people. Don't start patting yourself on the back for being 'feminist' or whatever. That's total bull.

You can see the 'Top Female Applicants' and 'Top Male Applicants' on the Sugar Mommas page. You can comment on their looks, leave them little messages and browse their various photographs. All of the women have a similar plastic look, while all the men are yes, incredibly attractive ... in a wax figure, Hollywood kind of way.

Anyway, take a peek for yourself if you are so inclined. You have been warned however: it is like entering a parallel, artificial universe where everyone is made out of rubber and plastic, has Barbie doll hair and doesn't mind dropping $200 on dinner to get a man to hook up with them.

No thanks!

The website is at: http://www.pocketchangenyc.com/sugarmamas.asp.

odds & ends

This isn't a 'real' post. Think of it as more of a junk entry.

Anyway, don't forget to click on goosetopia. A click each day adds to my population.

Also, this is funny:

apartment hunting is a difficult thing to do

Apartment hunting in New York is probably one of the most frustrating aspects of living in the city. This is especially true for my peers, people who are in their twenties, recently out of (or in graduate) school, and on a tight budget. We're the ones who are stuck scouring Craigslist advertisements, dealing with shady brokers, and charming landlords who ask you questions like "Are you going to smoke pot and have parties in the apartment? Because I don't want that."

Alas, the time has come again for me to find an apartment in this large and amazing city. I have a few requirements, which are apparently contradictory to one another: a cheap place that's also in a safe neighborhood. Apparently, anything under $900 a month isn't going to get you very far, even in the outermost boroughs. (Note that my budget is more like $700.) I'm also hoping for little things, like, you know, actual doors that lock and kitchens that are large enough for more than a midget sized child to cook in.

I've developed a sort-of 'Apartment Niceness Scale' (A.N.S.), akin to the Kinsey Scale. The obvious difference is that my A.N.S. relates to domestic abodes, not modes of sexuality.

At the extreme top of the Apartment Niceness Scale would be the palatial dwelling spaces of the upper echelons of society, those marble and brick residences that line Central Park, Fifth Avenue, Park Avenue and the like. Middle range would be someplace decent in Astoria or Park Slope, with an exposed brick wall or too, functioning hot water, views that aren't of the wall belonging to the next building over, and perhaps an attractive male neighbor next door who can help screw in light bulbs and share his beer on a Saturday night. The lowest rank would be the suicide inducing monstrosity I visited yesterday afternoon, a dismal and dank place with floral wallpaper from 1975 and no doors. (Yes, no doors, you heard me right. There was a door to the bathroom and an entrance ... and that was it.)

It was bad enough that walking to this apartment of doom -- during midday, mind you -- I felt like I could be jumped at any second. Well, okay, it wasn't quite that bad. It was certainly not fun, though. The only thing going for the neighborhood was that it was quintessential New York. I passed a Halal butcher, Hassidic Jews, signs that were only in Hebrew, and about a gazillion Mexican bodegas. Long live NYC, minus creepy guys and criminals!

After getting lost twice and being distracted in reminiscing about a Halal butcher I used to live near that kept live geese and chickens in the shop, I finally found the apartment in question. Yuck!! I think my first thought to myself was, "I'd slit my wrists if I lived here." No joke.

Luckily, I had another viewing scheduled for later that evening. Again, shady neighborhood, but not quite as sketch as the last one. Four flights up, and I find the apartment: nice, but not worth the rent given the neighborhood and climb up the stairs. And then, to top it off, I almost fell through the stairs when a board I stepped on gave way. Joy! (Not.)

So, anyway. I'm off again to look at more apartments this week. I'm sure it will prove to be a joyless task, but a girl needs a place to live. I'm trying to see these home hunting adventures as a way of exploring NYC. New neighborhoods and all that. But, honestly, it would just be lovely if someone plopped down a beautiful first floor apartment on my doorstep tomorrow and said, "Here, take it, rent free!"

dear 2008,

Dear 2008,
Welcome to Planet Earth. I hope you find it to your liking here. I'm sure you'll bring all kinds of excitement and misery alike -- births, deaths, dreams into fruition, incidents and accidents, peace marches and death matches, great works of art, new friendships, new scientific discoveries and old archaeological finds. Under your tenure there will be, undoubtedly, wars and fires, hurricanes and volcano blasts, sunny days, cloudy evenings, rain and snow, sleet and ice, warm summer evenings and long, cold winter twilights. Some things will remain the same, such as MTV, basketball players being paid too much to shoot a ball around, and kids cheating on exams in school. Other things will change, like my age, who will become president, what colors are 'in' or 'out' next season, and the like.

There are a few things I want to say before all of these things get set in motion, however. To begin with, I'm tired of some things in my own life, and I'm sure other people can relate as well. For example, I'm really quite over being force fed what is HOT or NOT on every magazine cover; I'm tired of being told if only I were blonder, or taller, or thinner, or had a bigger butt, I'd be somehow more desirable and therefore worthy of the good things in life.

I'm done with half baked friends, and the types of fake people who smile at you in your presence and then turn around and call you every snarky name in the book once you are absent. Magenta may be so last season, but why doesn't anyone ever say treating other people like crap is, too?

I have some requests on behalf of the citizens of New York City, as well. For one thing, landlords need to stop raising their rents so high. When Brooklyn gets too expensive to live in, what is left? Queens? (Ugh, the indignity!)

People looking to pick up a little change need to come up with more inventive acts. I've seen you play a guitar, an African harp, steel drums, keyboards, sing, play buckets like they were drums, break dance, do Michael Jackson impersonations, protest march against the Iraq War, sell knickknacks, hawk newspapers, try to barter off pirated DVDs and stolen batteries, ask for change, scrounge for lost money under vending machines, sell furniture on the street, design jewelry and offer me hot dogs for $2. Try something new. How about a space launch from 42nd Street? Or a caged liger (not lion, not tiger, but liger) act in Washington Square Park?

Girls need to put their Ugg boots to rest, everyone needs to put down their cell phones and pay attention to the world for five minutes, and, in addition, it would be great if Star Bucks stopped proliferating on every street corner in Manhattan.

It remains to be seen what kind of year you will be, 2008. I only hope it is a good one for everybody, full of cheer and happy moments. For me personally, it will be my third year in NYC and a milestone -- I've made it this long here. Here's too another few years of life in this wonderful, mad, crazy city in this wonderful, mad, crazy new year.

Love,
me