Crazytown

ONE LESS LONELY GIRL

Never Say Never? How about Never Say Anything?
By Alisha Giampola (Actor) 

You guys. Since the news broke that Justin Bieber was getting his WWII history on in Amsterdam and wrote a slightly awkward entry in the guestbook at the Anne Frank House, I'm sure you've all been wondering sleeplessly if Anne Frank would, in fact, have been a 'belieber' as Justin hoped. If you have somehow missed this amazing moment in American pop culture, and have not yet become alarmed that possibly no one under the age of 20 knows anything about Anne Frank, or you know, World War II, please take a moment to catch yourself up.

(And I really cannot even discuss right now that Justin Bieber was born in 1994, because that just makes me feel HORRIFYINGLY OLD. I need to procure a lawn, so I can start yelling at people to stay off of it.)  

To the credit of pretty much everyone on the planet, most people reacted on a spectrum between outrage and irritated disbelief at Bieber's comment, although 50 Cent had the Beib's back. In all fairness, if we ever hoped to discover what was on the mind of a teenage Jewish girl during the Holocaust, 50 Cent's guess is probably as good as anyone's. Also, it's pretty clear that Bieber's comments were made in fairly profound ignorance, as he doesn't even know who the Germans are, let alone the Nazis.

And then, Anne's own posthumous stepsister, Eva Schloss, steps forward and makes the ultimate defense for Bieber's comment. Eva constructs this very scientific logical syllogism for us: all 15 year old girls love Justin Bieber, Anne Frank was (and will eternally be) a 15 year old girl, therefore Anne Frank would have loved Justin Bieber. 

“Tell me what you like girl, tell me what you don’t.
I could be your Buzz Lightyear, fly across the globe.”

WHAT'S IN A NAME (OR TITLE, FOR THAT MATTER)?

The answer to that question? Everything.
By Annissa Omran (Writer/College Student)

Today I have been having one of those days. You know the kind - when you can't seem to focus and every single thing that is NOT what you are supposed to be focusing on all of a sudden becomes the most interesting thing on the planet.

During one such flight of fancy, I found myself somehow on the Wikepedia page dedicated to Elizabeth I. A very natural progression led me to click on multiple links that led me to a variety of different pages. Eventually I happened upon the definition page for "Queen Consort", something totally cool.

(Unless you're Carol Burnett in Once Upon a Mattress, in which case it's an uphill battle^[source])

In a nutshell it simply refers to the wife of the reigning king/emperor/grand duke/head-honcho. The consort is not queen by birth right and does not have the same pull as a Queen Regnant (i.e. Queen Elizabeth II has got the power)

(I'm not going to try and pretend that I didn't absolutely obssess over the Unimpressed Queen meme^[source] )

Now, as a history buff, I was already aware of all of this information. In middle school I created a badass presentation covering all aspects of the life of Henry VIII (adorably cliche diorama and fact-plastered posterboard included). "Divorced, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded, survived" was definitely my 8th grade mantra, although I'm not sure what that says about my mental well being. In literary terms, I have read books and books and books detailing and dramatizing the lives of queens long gone.

But what I wasn't aware of was the fact that there are actually quite a few royal families left in the world.

EXCUSE ME, YOUR PARTICIPLE IS DANGLING.

That's what she said.
By Alisha Giampola (Actor) 

Good grammar is sexy, you guys. Proper usage of punctuation marks, excellent spelling, and knowing when to use "whom" instead of "who" will all get me hot under the collar; you get bonus points for using a semicolon correctly. 

Here's the problem: somewhere between AOL chat rooms and Twitter, we seem to have collectively lost our ability as humans to write without degenerating into abbreviations and totally phonetic spelling. I admit, I find an abbrev here and there to be both useful and funny. But this is a case where I feel like it is only okay to break the rules if you know what the rules are in the first place. AND NO ONE KNOWS WHAT THE RULES ARE ANYMORE YOU GUYS IT IS SO AWFUL IT MAKES ME WRITE ANGRY RUN-ON SENTENCES AHHHHHHH!!!!!!

CLASSLESS AND LOVING IT

Ali wants to let you know five ways the Sarah Silverman Program was way ahead of its time, and why you should stream it on Netflix right away.
By Ali Gordon 

Hey, kids! Stuck in your Theatre History class at school? No idea what to write your midterm paper about? Have to somehow relate Kafka and Magical Realism into your in-class essay, and you didn't really read The Metamorphosis because you were getting super into Breaking Bad that week? Never fear - The Sarah Silverman Program is here!

It was funny. It was crude. Damn it, it was postmodern. And - worth mentioning - her skin was always flawless, even when she was licking her own dog's butthole.

Plus, the title sequence was always funny!

Starting on Comedy Central in 2007, The Sarah Silverman Program ran for three seasons until cancellation in 2009. When faced with an untimely end before the third season due to budget disagreements, LOGO TV stepped in to renew the third season. And that rocks, no arguments about it. Plus, amidst the poop jokes and wacky hijinks, the show was also consistently praised for its non-stereotypical portrayal of a gay couple (Sarah's next door neighbors, Steve and Brian) and it was nominated for a GLAAD Media Award, which is ALSO awesome.

In today's comedy landscape, we love crude women (see Bridesmaids), selfish-lazy-do-nothing protagonists (see It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia) and cultural reference cut-aways, especially when they incorporate musical numbers (see Family Guy). And no, The Sarah Silverman Program didn't necessarily do them first, but it sure as hell did them well. Here's Five Reasons as to why the Sarah Silverman Program was Way Ahead of Its Time.

DAMN YOU, NETFLIX

Or in other words, thanks a lot for being one of the biggest and most beloved procrastination stations of all time
By Annissa Omran (Writer/College Student)

(This website is the bane of my existence/love of my life)

First of all I would like to wish every Crazytown member – contributor and reader alike – a very happy spring term! If that gorgeous and socially aware new spring banner, crafted by the wonderful Loren A. Roberts, doesn’t get you in the mood I don’t know what will.

I wanted to start this new term by reiterating one of my goals as a contributor here on Crazytown: to provide a commentary on the life of a writer as she/he traverses the perilous universe of collegiate pursuits. And that commentary would never be complete without a post dedicated to the most college-y of all college hobbies:

Addictive Netflix viewing.

THE BEST OF THE WORST PART 2

They're better/worse than ever before... bad TV ads. Brace yourselves.
By Ali Gordon 

They're baaaaaaack... terrible TV ads delivered right to you via CRAZYTOWN! After posting the previous installment of "The Best of the Worst", people contacted me to share some of their favorite local TV ads and "WTF"-inspiring national commercials. So here she is boys, here she is world, heeeeeere's more!

This ad was delivered to me by three separate friends, all natives or school-attendees of Cleveland, which only goes to show that it has pizazz and undeniable mass appeal. It features animals (sort of), a very distinctive speaking voice (kind of), a shocking reveal (okay, this point is actually true... it is shocking), and is the only ad I know that simultaneously advertises furniture, someone's web show, and  could essentially be an ad for D.A.R.E in that no one will be messing with meth after seeing this bad-trip-disaster.

IT MIGHT AS WELL BE SPRING

But it looks like someone forgot to tell Mother Nature.
By Rachel James (Treasurer/Writer) 

Is anyone else totally over winter?

I don’t mean to be so dreadfully dull as to talk about the weather, but honestly people!  This past week, daylight savings time began and the vernal equinox occurred.  Both of these events make me happy for two reasons:

1. More daylight! I might actually see the sun when I leave work!
2. On the vernal equinox, you can stand an egg on its end.  Because everything on The West Wing is true.

 

However, with all of these milestones, spring has not arrived on the east coast.  It has been cold and snowy, which is not irregular for March.  But after the few balmy days we got in February, you look forward to more afternoons at Blockheads.

To the uninitiated, Blockheads is an NYC chain with mediocre (but cheap!) margaritas and even more mediocre (not so cheap) Mexican food.  However, they have lovely outdoor seating behind New World Stages, so they are the ideal Hell’s Kitchen location for the post-work/pre-show drink fest.

The worst part about this change of seasons in this melancholic feeling I can’t seem to shake.  Honestly, I have no push to do pretty much anything.  I want to write more, but I have nothing that allures me.  I’m trying to experience new things, but money and time are holding me back.  I’m hoping that a bit more sunlight can illuminate my sense of wonder.

 

THE STARS ARE BLIND....TO HOW HORRIBLE THEIR HAIRCUTS LOOK

Yes. I did reference Paris Hilton's one hit blunder. It was applicable (although I don't condone her intolerance and overall ickiness).
By Annissa Omran (Writer) 

Earlier this week I took a major plunge and got my hair cut shorter than it has been in the past five years. “Plunge” may seem to be a strong word, but as a long time worshipper of long tresses, I can tell you that this experience bordered on the traumatic. You know when you hear about people hiding behind their hair, using it as a crutch in the face of their insecurities, and falling slave to a host of other embarrassing dependency issues as a result?

Yeah that’s me.

But eventually I overcame these problems and now I feel very much like Marion Cotillard, except less glamorous and less French.

(Because Marion Cotillard seems to have invented both glamour and Frenchness)

In order to prepare myself for such a drastic physical transition, I did what any paranoid, unoriginal, and semi-tech savvy person would do – I turned to the world wide web for inspiration. While sifting through celebrity examples (The Rachel was weirdly at the top of my list, but that might be because there was a Friends marathon on tv that night), I came across some wonderfully horrible haircuts.

One accidental internet search led to another and before I could say monumental-waste-of-time I was up to my eyeballs in the hair-donts of the stars.

 
(Really, society, why was this allowed to occur?)

So, in honor of my stylistic evolution, I’d like to share some of the most entertainingly horrific gems I discovered. 

DYDD GWYL DEWI

St. David is the patron saint of Wales. March 1st is his feast day.  Hence the Welsh title. Let's celebrate!
By Rachel James (Treasurer/Writer)

Today is St. David's Day.  Being of Welsh extraction, this is... actually... not something we celebrated.  My father would occasionally make Welsh rarebit.  And I remember my grandmother attempting to teach me "This Little Piggy" in Welsh (all I retained was "Weeee, weeee, weeee").  Rather than put a daffodil in my hair and dress up in red & white, let's watch some Welsh performers being awesome.

 

Yes, that's Ioan Gruffudd and Matthew Rhys reciting lyrics to Welsh folk songs on the beaches of Malibu.  Because they can.

 

Did I make a post about a Welsh holiday just so I could post a video of Dame Shirley Bassey KILLING it with "Goldfinger"? Yes. Yes I did.

 

Let's all forget The Tonys, and just remember Catherine Zeta-Jones like this.  Cool?

CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF A PATRON KIND: DELUXE EDITION

Because the best characters really are in the audience.
By Annissa Omran (Writer/College Student/Usher) 

(Palais Garnier, theater perfection embodied)

I recently had a very interesting series of run ins with patrons at the theater where I work as an usher and I think they deserve a little more attention than the usually brief segment Close Encounters of a Patron Kind.

This past week I worked double shifts to accommodate the final six-day-stretch of a show that has been in town for almost a month. I, being no stranger of repetition, absolutely love the chance to watch a show more than one time. It gives me the chance to see different parts (as an usher we can only partake of the show while patrons are seated, after tickets are counted and holds are observed) and it provides me with the opportunity to appreciate swings and full cast members alike.

As a result of such long term exposure to a series of rambunctious audiences, I happened to rack up a nice little medley of encounters that I now present to you for your reading pleasure: