Saturday, January 3, 2009

Golden Globes season


As the season of giving wanes, awards season open, giving celebutantes and nerds alike a reason to go to the movies. I've seen several of the upcoming best movies, and am here to tell you to watch them. Milk, the biopic of the year that acts least like a biopic, tells the story of Harvey Milk, the first gay man gain an elected office in the US, set during the 1970's. I laughed, I cried, I wanted to go forth and fight for gay rights. And really, what more could you ask for from a movie? It was genuine, beautiful, and heart wrenchingly true. It reminded you to love the person, not the gender, and that love, friendliness and earnestness get your far. In today's jaded world, that's a beautiful reminder.
Slumdog Millionaire was dramatic action with a Bollywood twist. I was stuck on the premise, but it ended up not being anything like I thought it was and I loved it. 
Frost/Nixon was also unexpected...I didn't hate Nixon in the end. The tension and personal strife portrayed in this true story made it completely personable. 

There's more to come but I'm going bowling. You better believe it. 

Monday, December 1, 2008

Never Gonna Give You Up?


And lo! Here is the next contributor, my fabulous and witty roommate, Miss Katie Burkes! Upon her return to the homestead this afternoon, pictures of her adventures from Thanksgiving were proudly touted....including those from the Thanksgiving Parade. Now, any of you kids with any kind of tradition are familiar with the parade, so here is Katie's experience with it. Enjoy, and let her take you back to "the day" (whenever "back in the day" actually was...)!

In 1987, a promise was made to the American public. A young ginger named Rick Astley sprung onto our TV screens and into our 8-tracks with the immortal promise that he would never give us up, let us down, run around and desert us. Furthermore, he swore to never make us cry, say goodbye, tell a lie or hurt us. Granted, these immortal words were spoken – or rather, sung – two years before my birth, however it did not make me believe Rick any less when “Never Gonna Give You Up” made its way through my ears, into the limbic system (obscure Dane Cook reference), and straight to my heart. In short, after hearing this beautiful song, my world was changed. I finally had someone I could depend on -- Rick Astley. 
I bring up Rick and his hit ‘80s classic because Mr. Astley recently made an appearance in the 2008 Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, which I attended, as I do every year. This particular year I was lucky enough to watch the festivities from the new VIP section – which were essentially large red bleachers – located in Duffy Square on Broadway. The parade commenced as usual with a slew of B-List celebrities and enormous inflatable cartoon characters (the highlights of this year: a Smurf and Buzz Lightyear). I stood in my VIP bleachers as obnoxious parents encouraged their children to injure me as needed to get a better spot, wishing , hoping – nay, praying – for a reason to be out here on this freezing cold Thanksgiving morning. The parade passed: Ronald McDonald…Pikachu… David Archuleta… yawn. Then I saw something on the horizon… a red and gold sign announcing the next celebrity of the parade. I craned my neck to read said sign as it was proudly paraded down Broadway. I was finally able to make out the name Rick, and a few seconds later, Astley. RICK. ASTLEY. Yes indeed, Rick was approaching. At this moment I turned to my father and excitedly announced Rick’s arrival, to which he seemed less than excited about. However, I assume this was because either a) he would have felt emasculated if he let out his true emotions and began screaming like an eleven year old girl at a Jo Bros concert, or b) he was so stunned and shocked to be within mere feet of Rick Astley that he was rendered speechless. 
Within minutes, Rick’s float rolled in front of us. I immediately whipped out my camera, trying to capture every moment. I watched as he waved to fans (mostly moms) from his position aboard the Foster’s Home for Imaginary Friends float. A tear of joy slid down my cheek (well ok, not really) as I watched him innocently play with the Imaginary Friends puppets on this float of promise. Indeed, Rick rolled (haha) like a champion, no, like a god in a peacoat. 
But alas, even though this precious moment seemed like it lasted for hours, Rick’s float eventually moved on, ever so slowly, until finally it disappeared from my sight. One might think I would be upset with Mr. Astley for leaving me. After all, he had broken several of his promises: He did hurt me by leaving, he did let me down and he deserted me in the VIP section of Duffy Square with only my memories (and photographs) to sustain me. I was confused for a moment. Was “Never Gonna Give You Up” merely words to Rick?? Surely, he would not tell me all those things only to do the exact things he promised he wouldn’t. This was not the Rick I know and love. I felt so alone. And then, I realized something. This Thanksgiving morning, I was not in good spirits. I had to wake up at six thirty am only to stand in the freezing cold while the little girls around me screamed in my ears at Miley Cyrus. All in all, this was not shaping up to be the Thanksgiving I had hoped for. But Rick’s mere presence brightened my entire day. He knew that I wasn’t having a great morning, and he couldn’t bear to see me waste away my Thanksgiving feeling tired, cold and cranky. And so, by standing on that Foster’s float early on the morning of November 27th, 2008, Rick gave me the greatest gift of all. He reminded me of all good things in this world – a cheesy yet ridiculously catchy 80s tune, the beauty of New York in the winter time, the joy of a warm yet fashionable peacoat, the beauty of lip synching – and gave me something to be thankful for on this the day of Thanks. In doing so, Rick fulfilled every promise… to me and to every other person watching that parade who actually knew who he was.
And so, kids, when you go to sleep this upcoming Christmas Eve, be sure to listen closely. You may just hear the opening chords of “Never Gonna Give You Up” as Rick Astley travels the globe bringing joy and hope to all. 

Saturday, November 29, 2008

So you like it juicy?


Dearest readers, I'm overjoyed to announce my newest contributor, James Napoli. A renaissance man if I've ever met one, James' talents and charm far exceed that of the average college students. I could go on, but I'll let his snappy, arousing prose speak for itself. Enjoy!

According to the Merriam Webster Collegiate Dictionary, Juicy is defined as, “having much juice: succulent” Some dictionaries even go as far as to use a juicy pear as an example. Now, this has got to be one of my favorite definitions of all time. Mostly because of how often the word is used for something that does NOT correlate with the definition. Want an example? OK, sweatpants. Have you ever seen girls walking around whatever town you come from, wearing sweatpants with the word Juicy plastered across their ass? These girls usually saunter about with their tight little asses moving sensuously up and down as they walk. They know that you’re staring, most likely drooling as you stand at the self-serve gas station. Presumably, they bought the pants in question because they believed them to be -on some bizarre level-sexy. Don’t get me wrong now, girls look very, very nice in a tight little pair of sweats, but the word juicy just throws me off. I mean honestly, what does that even imply? Does this poor girl have a terrible case of jungle rot, or is she leaking some sort of discharge? I really just don’t get it. I mean, since the word juicy implies something wet, why in God’s Green Earth is it being compared to someone’s buttocks? It’s ridiculous, and I don’t know about other guys, but a wet ass really doesn’t get my jollies going.

You’re probably thinking to yourself, what the hell is this guy talking about? So what if she’s got a little sweat beading up on her ass, that’s usually a turn on when I watch porn. Au contraire, mi amigo. Maybe a little anecdote will knock you to your senses. Picture this, you’re making out with some chick in the backseat of your 1998 Camry, and she’s hot. I mean smoking fucking hot. She’s got these smoldering eyes that immediately make you think of sex, and her tits are fine as hell. So, being the baller that you think you are, decide to nonchalantly slide your hand down her back and underneath the elastic band of her sweatpants. She doesn’t seem to mind, and she presses her taught hips even more tightly against yours, arching her back ever so slightly. Score, you think to yourself, this chick’s a fucking slut. Then, as you slide your hand deeper into unexplored territory, and her breathing starts to get heavy, something goes horribly, horribly wrong. Your hand is soaking wet. Soaking, fucking wet, with God knows what. In the midst of your panic attack, after you dry your hand off on something (most likely her shirt that found its way on the floor) you notice that stamped across her ass is the word Juicy. That my friend, is what I call a boner killer. So please, girls-please. Keep is sexy, keep it gangsta, keep it dry.

Sunday, November 23, 2008

Quiet time music!


So tonight Mr. Storm brought us the music of the glorious Miss Rachel Wiegand, so check her out! As he put it, she's a hottie with a guitar, in case you missed us chatting her up on the show tonight! She's got a rad mellow vibe that offered us a great counterpoint to the postpunk stuff I've been spinning lately...we always love to indulge in something a little different!

On that note, I'd like to announce that the fabulous Storm and I (Katie) will be spinning on WMAR together next semester, so watch outttt, it's gonna be crazy! Indie shenanigans out to ass! Caitlin is returning with own show with Nick Strang-Wolf to play more of the vintage folk rock she's so crazy about. So we're all still going to be on the air, and offering you more excuses to tune in! 

Monday, November 17, 2008

We have that SPECIAL SAUCE!


Dear readers, as the Time for Feasting (gotta love food-centered holidays!) approaches, I must explain two things.

Thing One:
I love cranberry sauce. Of the canned variety. And it must still be in the shape of the can, even if it's on a really beautiful china dish the way ours always is. Everything else, including the bread for the stuffing, is homemade and absolutely breathtaking, but for some reason, it is that cranberry sauce that has me salivating for good ol' Turkey Day! And the leftover sandwiches, which, let's face it, are really the only reason we put up with Thanksgiving in the first place!

Thing Two:
It is hell week for dance, which means I have rehearsal for four hours a day, in addition to exam-taking, term research, radioshow-doing and the various mundane things that fill in the rest. So if you don't hear from me for a few days, my deepest apologies, I shall return in force over Thanksgiving break with much new music and a new Last.fm player chock full of rad new tunes for this site, as I will be at home in the throes of what I like to call "The Turkey Coma". Which means I will actually have time to write, and will, when I'm not off having mad shenanigans in Vermont! 

So adieu for the time-being, and I'll try to post as much as I can between now and Thanksgiving, so keep checking back and commenting and what-not. We also have more guest contributors coming up, so get pumped y'all!

And just to satisfy your music craving, here's the link for that new funk band I debuted on my show last night named The Kitchen. Are you sensing a theme yet?! Go eat!

Sunday, November 16, 2008

So about Friday nights...


This particular Friday night was crazy redonkadonk! We threw a Disco Ravin' party, complete with tons of sequins and all the essential tunes (BeeGees to the face!). So add that to the list from the previous Friday-night entry....

Throw a themed party!

I fear for the mundane nature of life on occasion. Friday was NOT one of those times! Another sweet theme I've heard recently is "hipster sluts and trendy fucks", but it cannot top the Porn Party my posse threw when I was rockin' the 802 a couple weeks ago. Epic much? Hell yeah!

My party this weekend ended up with a certain El Presidente not making it back across campus...and staying til 3pm the next day! You know it's a great night when...

Friday, November 14, 2008

Wild Kingdom metaphors for tunes?! Hell Yeah!


Hey readers, I'm proud to introduce Green Shock's newest contributor Nicholas (Nick "The Hip") Palumbo! He's the pseudo-hipster Veep of WMAR and knows infinitely more crazy and obscure bands than I do, so I'm bringing him to you! Here's his first post...enjoy!

Today, I saw a fox (and a gorgeous one at that). It was stalking a squirrel that had climbed up a telephone pole. I thought it was such a marvelous site that I forgot why I went to my car. I remembered 20 minutes later why I was outside, spending the whole time fixated on this extremely beautiful creature.

I had not gone out of my way to find this fox, it just surprised me. I love it when music does the same to me. When a new artist or song hides around the corner and waits for you to get closer before it pounces and screams, “Surprise!”

This week, I came across a folk band called “Gregory & The Hawk”. I found them on Myspace but came across them accidently (quite similarly to how I came across the fox). The vocals are velvety, the music extremely basic. “Boats and Birds” is a song that legitimately brought tears down my face. It is the kind of song that will play while Zach Braff spoons with Scarlett Johansson on a bed in an empty apartment in the next best film since “Garden State” (one can wish, right?)

We need to be open and aware of our surroundings. If we aren’t, we might miss that new artist or new song that will change the world (or miss that fox).


There you have it! Nick the Hip will be writing as often as he can, and helping me raise the baby love child that is Green Shock! Groovy baby



--Nicholas Palumbo..