Pop Culture Blog: Music, Movie and Humor

Leveraging low-hanging synergies outside the vertical fruit box since 1999.

That Thing About The Iron And The Candle Wax.


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My new roomate Tom moves in this weekend. Yes, another new roomate. I swear to Christ I’m not going all John Wayne Gacy on them and stuffing them under the water heater. Rest assured, all my former roomates are alive and well attending outpatient therapy somewhere.

The former tenant was nice enough to leave three big gobs of candle wax and chewing gum (I’m not sure which is which) on the carpet, and although I steam cleaned Tuesday night, they are still front and center. Someone at work told me about a neat trick – cover the wax or gum with a paper bag and hit it with a hot iron. The smeg will stick to the bag and come right out of the carpet.

You know what? It works. Amazing. If you don’t have similar spots on the rugs in your home, make a mess just so you can try this out. Have a Satanic ritual, seal an envelope, find a pack of Big League Chew and get things started. Best of luck.

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My Fickle Friend, December.


in Reminiscent

Gone are the days when I’d long look forward to December. Driving 8 hours to spend 3 rushed days in Toronto before driving back again isn’t quite as much fun as driving 3 hours to Grandma’s to spend a whole week there over the holidays used to be. Turning 13 is much more exciting than turning 31. Staying up all night praying for dawn and anticipating the unwrapping of dress shirts, socks and toenail clippers isn’t quite as mesmerizing as it was when the packages contained Legos, GI Joes and Star Wars figures. I still instinctively get excited about December – but these days it’s more hassle and tension than holly and tinsel.

The dual nature of December couldn’t have been reflected any better than on this, the very first day of the month. Joe Thornton got traded to San Jose – but my coworker Alon’s wife gave birth to little Maya at 7:31 this morning. I’ve also, while typing this, been invited to my first Holiday party at a posh location in Marblehead. So I suppose it could be much, much worse. And for the record – it’s called Christmas, you over-sensitive frigtards. Donnie Hatt is my hero.

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Hostest With The Mostest.


in

PITF favorite Mean Art Green’s severely cool friend Cindy visited from Vancouver for work a couple of weeks ago, and he asked me to show her around. I’d never met Cindy, but we were fast friends and collectively had a very silly week together – the crescendo of which was a Bruins game with Detroit Velvet Smooth and Clarkey in tow. Long story short, we took some neat photos with her wide-angle lens, and I’ve added them to the gallery here.

While we’re on the subject of hockey, I am trying to organize a crew to go and see the LockMonsters take on the Providence Bruins this Saturday evening in Lowell. Any takers can feel free to comment or email me. Revelry will ensue during and afterwards. You haven’t lived until you’ve tasted Lowell’s nightlife. Or crack. Is there really a need for a differentiation there?

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Wednesday Wadio: XTC’s Generals And Majors.


in Wednesday Wadio

“In my view, XTC is the greatest rock band of the 1980s… they’ve never really lost their edge: they’ve consistently delivered quality recordings that show increasing sophistication and maturity instead of burnout and boredom.” – warr.org

“Dear God” is the closest XTC ever came to a major Stateside hit, but they have have an enormous back catalog which includes 14 full studio albums, the first of which was released in 1978. I have been a fan for almost 20 years myself, and my favorite XTC tune is by far the fully infectious “Generals and Majors” off 1980’s Black Sea album.

The lyrics aren’t all that sophisticated and seem to poke fun at warmongers, for lack of a better analogy. So the tune should be soundtracking another questionable video from MoveOn.org within the week. To call the baseline simply catchy, would be a disservice to catchy baselines everywhere. If you can listen to this song without tapping your foot, either have your pulse checked or report to a Dave Matthews concert immediately.

Here is a great collection of videos I found on the expansive and interesting tribute site, Chalkhills – and you can also visit the official site for the latest news, audio clips, lyrics and a full discography. Revisit the XTC, kids. I can’t stress that enough.

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Goodbyes To Sweaty Palms And Butterflies.


in

Romance dies after only the first year, according to Italian scientists who probably hope they’re next in line to woo your girlfriend as a result of you buying into their findings. So enjoy the honeymoon as long as you can, folks. Because after a time you’re apparently no more in love with your spouse than you are with one of your best friends:

“Research has suggested that romantic love fades after a few years and becomes companionate love and it seems certain biological factors play a role. But while we are a pair-bonding species, there is some doubt over whether this is within monogamous relationships or not.”

That sorta puts a wee damper on things, huh? Here I am thinking some spectacular female is due to come down the pike into my life at any minute, when really I might as well be buggering a buddy. I don’t buy it. There’s no way my mother would have ever put up with my father for all these years if there wasn’t something deeper at play. No way in hell.

Eh, I’m thinking too hard. Que sera sera. And buggery.

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