Here are some things we did not do this week: complete our tax forms, complete our census forms, win a Pulitzer Prize.
We don’t feel so bad about the census. If neither Williamsburg nor the Upper East Side wishes to do something, it must not be worth doing. As for the Pulitzer, we cannot help it if we are not Hank Williams.
We should probably figure out what is up with those taxes, though. Our understanding (“our understanding”) is that we will probably be getting some money back.
Money that we could then spend on extravagances! Like meat, or leotards, or middle-shelf alcohols, or exorbitantly overpriced magazines (The Gentlewoman: sister to Fantastic Man, now available in the U.S. for $10.95). Or, height of indulgence, a hardcover book—something beautiful and heavy that we could slowly cover with grubby fingerprints on the subway. Then again, that David Foster Wallace road-trip book is also out, and it’s paperback. That seems like the kind of thing we might read.
But taxes: soon, the money. Maybe. Until then we must amuse ourselves in a cost-effective fashion.
We guess Glee is back on now.
We do enjoy the adventures of misfit high-schoolers (see: Freaks and Geeks). We even have a soft spot for musical theater; or at least, we did back in fourth grade, when we dressed as a character from Les Miserables on Halloween and baffled our classmates (both freak and geek—that was us).
But Glee. Somehow we are just not feeling this! Jane Lynch is great and all, but aside from that. It strikes us as a dumb thing that thinks it is being smart about its dumbness, but is wrong.
Are WE dumb, and missing something? Are we miserly, and unable to give the show credit for what humor and pathos it does possess? Did hype just lead us to expect more than it could possibly deliver?
In any case, we will probably watch the premiere when it shows up on Hulu. We never stop trying, that’s for sure.
Here’s what we won’t be trying: the KFC “Double Down,” which took New York’s digestive tract by storm on Monday. We thought we could at least enjoy explaining this sandwich to the uninitiated (“The fried chicken IS the bun; the bun is chicken”), but then we read a description that noted the whole event was basically chicken cordon bleu. At that point, it became dumb.
Still, our brief interest in the Double Down made us feel distinctly Liz Lemonish. Oh, 30 Rock! Why won’t you return to the Hulu rotation, instead of leaving us to attempt to like Glee? There’s only Tina Fey’s appearance on Saturday Night Live to tide America over until its next helping of Sabor de Soledad—she was back in the wig this weekend, alongside musical guest and Canadian teen sensation Justin Bieber.
Last week, an acquaintance told us that we looked like Justin Bieber. This was hurtful. It almost made us reconsider our bangs (surely it was the bangs?), but thank God, not quite.